


After It All

by ADashOfStarshine (ADashOfInsanity)



Category: Magic the Gathering
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Bolas Wins AU, F/M, Graphic Depictions of Illness, M/M, Multi, Post-War of the Spark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-10-04 05:55:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20466119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADashOfInsanity/pseuds/ADashOfStarshine
Summary: It's over. The war is lost. The saviours from beyond the stars have fled. The god-dragon left with a ruin in his wake and now the survivors must do what they can in the wreckage. Ral Zarek could leave, find a new home somewhere in the multiverse, and abandon the ruins of Ravnica forever. But he won't.Ravnica is his home. Tomik Vrona is his home.And he won't abandon them for anything.Post-Apocalyptic AU. Ral/Tomik with a little Jace/Vraska in chapter three.





	1. Chapter 1

The air tasted like dust and insulation foam. Ral found himself licking his lips, trying to get some moisture back into them as he crept down yet another long-deserted corridor. The glow from his gauntlets made every shadow leap up at him as he approached. Harmless pipes became tall wirey assailants and simple maintenance trolleys seemed like rubble piles, blocking his path. Occasionally, he would stumble across a patch of light. A solitary red beam in the dark, still blinking with what emergency power was left in the place. He would reach up, with practiced fingers, and disable the thing. They needed every ounce of power they could get. There was no need to waste it on lights no one would use. He eased open a metal door – half ajar, and discovered nothing but an avalanche of rubble beyond. A solitary mizzium gauntlet stuck out of the pile – too small for a human, but valuable scrap nevertheless. He approached the arm, muttering something like a prayer. He wasn’t a religious man, but he’d seen enough ghosts to know that even the afterlife wasn’t restful. He eased the gauntlet off the skeleton, eyeing the equipment for any signs of who this had once been. A viashino, judging by the bone structure. He thanked them silently, before adding the gauntlet to the bag on his back. It chinked with scrap metal and glass jars – the spoils of an afternoon’s search. It had never got any less disturbing that he was now looting the building he had once considered a home.

Nivix had fallen.

So had the rest of Ravnica, but it was the destruction of what he’d once known that hurt the most. He’d been Guildmaster of this place for just a short while. Now look what had become of it. The scientific heart of Ravnica was now a derelict maze of dark and winding corridors. The Aerie had been destroyed in the invasion. Not even the little maintenance booths had been spared. Once upon a time they could control all the city’s utilities from here, but no more. Nivix had been severed off the grid and now sat, supported by the Firemind’s back ups. Generators the size of houses, buried deep in the bowels of the earth, still ran sluggishly to this day. Ral knew they were blessed to even have power. Whole districts had gone dark, their wires cut, their pipes severed. They had running water, not heated, but running, and enough power to keep the lights on and fuel a solitary furnace. They would not be without clean water or fire, and for that they were lucky. Yet it took more than water and heat to keep a man’s spirits up. Fortunately for Ral, he had all the motivation he needed.

He marked the avalanche room with an X, leaving it forever to be that poor viashino’s tomb. Bag full, he followed his line of Xs back to their bunker. Not a bunker in the strictest sense, but the closest thing he could find in the wreckage. Many of the labs in Nivix had been built to survive explosions, both within and from neighbouring rooms. It was hardly a surprise then, that some of the labs had survived the building’s collapse. The room in question had once been a vehicle assembly workshop. The shell of a Mizzium tank, never finished, still sat in one corner of the room. Its hollow chasse now filled with scavenged blankets and pillows. A mattress of sandbags, covered in a soft banner, and then piled in bedding, proved a welcome source of comfort in these desperate times. Ral appreciated the privacy of their sleeping space, even if there was no one about to hide away from. Their kitchen was a pair of workbenches next to the furnace once used to smelt machine parts. It was there that Tomik stood when he returned. The sounds of a kettle boiling the sweetest music after a long few hours scavenging.

“Welcome back,” said the ex-advokist. He still wore his golden collar like a symbol of pride. However, his white robes had not survived the battle across what was left of the Transguild Promenade. He wore mismatched clothing – an artificer’s coveralls over a long grey shirt and baggy black trousers. He had leather armour strapped over the top, a little too big and lopsided, but it was a layer of protection Ral insisted on wherever he went. Necessity was the greatest tutor of all. Tomik could now actually wield the sword strapped to his hip, in addition to knives attached to his coveralls. He stood by a workbench, surrounded by faintly glowing cages – traps of his own invention. He had made lures and cages out of old crates, enchanted them up with his constraint magic, and left them outside for the birds and beasts that now freely roamed the city. He promised Ral, that once inside, the animal was given a painless death. Ral didn’t really care, but it seemed to make Tomik feel better about the situation. Any source of comfort was worth having. As he approached, he noticed that three cages were full. Two pigeons and a rabbit, enough meat for a few meals. He kissed Tomik as soon as he was close enough, wrapping his arms about his waist and drawing him even closer.

“I found more coffee,” he murmured. Tomik kissed him in return.

“My hero,” he replied fondly, running a hand through Ral’s increasingly grey hair.

“What else did my brave adventurer find?”

As Tomik poured them both cups of coffee, using the last of their current jar, Ral laid the contents of his bag out on the workbench. Three large glass jars of coffee, found in an old breakroom, alongside an unopened jar of jam and a useful tin – devoid of any contents. He'd found a set of mizzium-tipped knives, most likely once used for electronics rather than culinary pursuits, but useful nevertheless. Scrap-wise, he’d found several manageable lengths of pipe, a half-full bag of screws and the viashino’s gauntlet. Tomik’s attention was caught between the jam and the knives, unable to decide which to admire first. It had been a long time since they’d had anything sweet. Ral could see he was dying just to lay into the preserve with a spoon.

Instead, he drew a scrap of white cloth from his overalls – the last remnants of his robes, and coughed loudly into the fabric. You could take the aristocrat out of his church, but you couldn’t take away his desire for handkerchiefs. To his credit, Tomik was constantly washing the things but Ral still found it amusing. They both had their little habits to help them cope. Ral kept himself busy, making improvements, inventing conveniences, scavenging for supplies. He drew up plans on an old blackboard for machines he’d never make, but the theorising was all the fun he required. Tomik meanwhile held onto scraps of his aristocratic dignity, be it through his collar or his handkerchiefs. When he wasn’t gathering food or compulsively tidying their home, he had dedicated himself to creating a written account of all that had happened. Ral didn’t know who was supposed to find it in the end. Yet he took every pen, every piece of paper, he could find to keep his lover’s ambitions going.

He helped Tomik with the pigeons and rabbits. Neither had known how to pluck or skin, before but they’d been forced to learn with time. They spitted the meat and set it over the fire in the furnace to roast.

“Could you put these on the roof?” Tomik asked, offering Ral two more traps, each filled with berries he’d scavenged from outside. Ral nodded, taking the crates off him.

“What are you going to do?” he asked.

Tomik picked up three more traps.

“I’m going to the apple tree. I won’t be long.”

Many years before Ral was born, the Selesnya had gifted Niv Mizzet an apple tree. What they meant by it, Ral had no idea. The dragon had never been one to admire the beauty of nature. Yet he’d still had it planted in a courtyard just outside Nivix’s main entrance. Ral hadn’t thought much of it until now. Regardless of all they had lost, despite the wreckage of the great guildhall behind it, that one damn apple tree was still standing. It stood like an oasis amidst the wreckage, despite the season for fruit being long past. Grass grew in abundance around its roots, other plants grew happily in its surroundings, bringing forth a whole ecosystem's worth of wildlife. It was here where Tomik caught the rabbits. On one occasion, he’d even got a fox. Ral was sure the creatures of Ravnica had been similarly decimated. How could they not when the purple meteors started raining from the sky? Yet without the interference of society, they were replenishing themselves at a rate only nature could achieve.

The same could be said for birds. Ral slung one trap into his bag. and put the other under one arm. as he left the safety of their bunker and up a maintenance hatch in the adjacent room. The workshop next to theirs was also intact. One wall needed some reinforcement, but they hadn’t done anything with the space more than storing their unused sandbags in there. Ral had hoped that, when they found fellow survivors, the place could become another set of living quarters. He had gone as far as making up three more ‘mattresses’ using the sand bags and some old tarps. A blanket sat folded on each bed, ready for a guest, but none had ever arrived. There had to be more people out there. Ral refused to believe they were the last. That was why he sent up his flare every single night.

He climbed onto what had become the roof. There used to be another floor here, but now it was just rubble, open to the elements. Setting the traps down, he crossed over to the highest point he could reach and looked up at the roiling clouds overhead. The sky hadn’t been clear since Bolas came. It had been left in a constant state of turmoil, much like the streets below. He sighed and stretched one palm skywards. He always did this every evening without fail, a little habit of his own, just to keep himself sane. He shot one, two, three, blasts of lightning into the air, then scanned the horizon for any sort of reply. He stayed up there for half an hour, occasionally letting loose bolts into the sky. Nothing responded. The clouds swirled, dark and angry, over lifeless streets. What had once been a thriving neighbourhood now stood as a monument to ruin. Rubble flooded the roads like a tidal wave, suspended mid-motion. Carts full of bodies, abandoned as their drivers fled the scene, still stood, long rotted into the pavement. Far, far away, he could see two out of three pillars of New Prahv. Somehow the only guildhall to survive the annihilation. Perhaps Bolas was trying to protect the Immortal Sun, which still lay there, inactive. Perhaps it was just sheer luck. If there was any group of survivors out there, it had be in those halls. Yet Ral was loathe to travel that far from his sanctuary. They must be able to see his signals from there. If they didn’t want to reply, well, he probably wasn’t welcome.

With a sigh, he left the roof, clambering back down into the empty workshop. When he returned he found that Tomik had prepared them a dinner of dried fruit and roasted pigeon. They would have to go scouting for greenery soon, but for now, he was grateful for what he was given. They ate in silence, somewhere in the depths of the building, pipes still creaked and circuits still buzzed. Nivix was never truly silent, even when all its occupants were gone. Melancholy settled over Ral as the quiet continued. He knew they were lucky. They were alive. They had a roof over their head and enough supplies to live off. They had heat when they wanted it. Fresh water whenever they needed it. Yet whenever it got too quiet, he was overwhelmed by the sheer hopelessness of the situation. They had lost. Not just the battle, not just the war. They had lost everything and everyone. Ral looked up at the wall where he propped his scrap. He’d found an old guild poster on one of his rummages. It pictured Niv Mizzet, sitting gloriously atop his tower, looking out at the rising sun. It was a triumphant picture of days that would soon become nothing but memory. How long had it been? Tomik had been keeping track but Ral had mostly taken things one day at a time.

There was a clatter of crockery as Tomik let their plates soak in the workshop’s sink. He returned to the table with a large bowl of water, faintly steaming, and smelling like the soap used in all Nivix bathrooms. Ral blinked at him, lost in his own thoughts, before realising what he was suggesting.

“Is it that time already?” he asked. Tomik smiled.

“You’re starting to look a bit like a hermit,” he said, “A very handsome hermit, but unkempt all the same.”

“You’re not much better,” Ral teased him. Tomik pouted and lightly whapped him on the shoulder.

“Well you can go second then,” he said, “Wash up whilst I sort myself out. Then it’s your turn.”

Ral didn’t need to be told twice. He attended the sink whilst Tomik produced one of his knives, the one he kept only for occasions such as this. By the time Ral was drying up, he was clean-shaven once more and impatiently waiting for Ral to join him.

“Hold still.”

Ral sat on a high stool as Tomik approached him with a barber’s air. Hand soap wasn’t quite shaving foam, but it was sufficient. Tomik lathered it up between his hands, chuckling as Ral wrinkled his nose at the clinical smell, as he gently spread it across Ral’s face. At first Ral had been wary of shaving with a knife, but he trusted his love’s steady hand and attention to detail. This had become a routine for them. He would sit and Tomik would lovingly caress his face with one hand, shaving with the other. It never failed to bring colour to his cheeks. The way their eyes met and Tomik’s hand lingered over old scars - it was more intimate that he possibly could have imagined. He almost missed it when Tomik finally patted him down with the remnants of a towel, wiping away the last loose hair or foam.

“There you go,” he said, “Gorgeous as ever.”

Ral drew him into a long kiss that tasted slightly of soap, but mostly of fruit. Though he surely should have expected it, the passion took Tomik’s breath away. He was left pressed up against Ral’s chest, panting slightly as they finally parted for air.

“Bed?” Ral suggested, wiping a few soap suds off Tomik’s cheek.

He merely nodded, already shrugging off the straps of his too-large overalls.

Ral awoke the following day with a very familiar weight on top of him. Tomik stirred, nuzzling Ral’s neck with the tip of his nose, before falling asleep again, sprawled nude atop his boyfriend. Ral couldn’t bring himself to get up, not with Tomik snoozing so beautifully above him. He stared at the roof of the Mizzium tank, one arm around Tomik’s waist, the other trying to feel about for one of his gauntlets. He couldn't find either gauntlet in his limited search range, but his fingers did brush against something odd. Amidst the rough blankets, he felt an incredibly soft sensation against the back of his hand. Groping about for it, he found the source of the softness. It felt like silk, it was certainly smooth like silk too. He pinched it and raised it before his face.

It was one of Tomik’s handkerchiefs.

But it wasn’t just a handkerchief. 

The white silk was stained with blood.

Ral’s heart hammered in his throat.

“Tomik,” he murmured, gently shaking his sleepy boyfriend, “Tomik, wake up.”

Tomik let out a groan and went back to sleep.

“Tomik, please. This is important.”

His eyes fluttered open, staring up at Ral’s concerned expression with sleep-addled confusion. As his mind caught up with the situation, he suddenly sat up, putting a little too much weight on Ral’s torso, making him wheeze.

“Ral, what’s the matter?”

Ral showed him the handkerchief.

“Are you hurt?” he asked. Tomik stared at the handkerchief, wide-eyed.

“No,” he said immediately, “No, Ral, that’s pigeon blood. I…I must have missed that one in the wash. I’ll sort it out today. I’m sorry for alarming you.”

Ral let out a sigh of relief, slumping back against the cushions.

“Please, don’t scare me like that,” he said. Tomik settled back on top of him like a cat seeking warmth.

“I’m sorry,” Tomik murmured against Ral’s bare chest, “Let me make it up to you?”

“How are you going to do that?” Ral teased. Tomik grinned and reached up to kiss him on the tip of his nose.

“I have my ways.”

Five days later, their routine was still plodding along at its usual pace. It rained hard with no signs of stopping. Tomik’s traps by the apple tree managed to catch a duck, whilst Ral finished reinforcing the dodgy wall in the adjacent room so it didn’t leak. No matter the weather, every evening without fail, he would spend at least half an hour on the roof, shooting signals into the sky. With every crackle of lightning, he scanned the surrounding rooftops, trying to repress the feeling of hopelessness. Yet finally, after five very wet days, he got a reply.

Light.

White light like a lawmage’s sigil burst into the air like a firework. Ral let out a cry and promptly sent out more lightning. The light replied, getting closer with every moment that passed. He and the survivor both shot signals into the air, until Ral could see them, running towards the apple tree, cloak flapping in the wind. He let out a shout and they turned, staring up at his lofty position. They lifted a gloved hand above their head. The white light coalesced into a familiar symbol – the triangular crest of the Azorius. Ral yelled at them to wait there as he raced down the roof, down the hatch, told Tomik to put his overalls on, before sprinting to the front entrance.

The figure was already at the door by the time he got there. He moved the selection of bars and metal trolleys, seizing the door with both hands to wrench it open – just wide enough for the solitary person to slip inside. As soon as they were in, he closed the door behind them, sparking up his gauntlets to provide them both with light.

“Guildmaster,” gasped a familiar voice, out of breath but still rigidly formal, “So good to know you’re alive.”

“The same could be said for you,” Ral replied. Before now, he’d never been so ecstatic to see a member of the Azorius guild. However this wasn’t just any Azorius. The stranger threw back her hood, revealing the heavily-scarred form of the ex-Captain, or ex-Guildmaster.

“Lavinia,” Ral proclaimed, “By the gods, it’s good to see you.”

She gave a wry chuckle.

“As soon as I saw the bolts up over Nivix, I knew it had to be you,” she said, “How many of you are there here?”

“Two,” Ral replied. Lavinia grimaced. He understood her disappointment. If he found a safehaven in the ruins, he’d have preferred more than two survivors as well.

“Do you want coffee?” he offered, hoping that would brighten her mood. Her eyes went wide.

“You have coffee?” she gasped.

“We have coffee,” he confirmed, “Follow me.”

He led her down back towards their sanctuary. As soon as they were through the blast doors, and they were safely closed behind them, Lavinia stopped in her tracks to look at the space the couple now called home.

“You two lucked out,” she stated, “This place is paradise compared to what I’ve seen.”

“Guildmaster Lavinia!” Tomik had noticed the new arrival and had hurried over to greet her. They shook hands as Lavinia gave Tomik a once over.

“You’re alive, and together,” she commented, “That’s the best news I’ve had since, I don’t know, since forever.”

“You have to tell us everything,” Ral said, “First coffee, but then we talk.”

They found a third chair whilst the kettle boiled in the furnace. Tomik made an attempt to clear the worktop in place of a coffee table. As soon as mugs were poured into, they all sat round it like they had around so many meeting tables before. Lavinia shrugged her cloak off as she sat, revealing the extent of her injuries. What remained of her left arm was strapped to her body with thick leather bands, the stump twitching with the movements of her shoulder, but not nearly enough limb remained for it to have use. She still carried her Azorius-issue blade about her hip, but her official armour was long gone. Her heavily-dented breastplate looked Dimir in design, whilst her vambrace bore the Boros insignia. Ral could only assume you couldn’t be too fussy with what armour you found out there. Not that there were any guilds left to care about mixing their symbology.

Lavinia inhaled her coffee like it was the elixir of life. Her eyes closed in bliss as the hot liquid eased the muscles in her shoulders, visibly relaxing her into her seat. As soon as the cup was empty, they refilled it for her. Before she drank again however, she bent over, rummaging about in her pack. She pulled out a large paper bag and dumped it on the table.

“A trade,” she said, “With thanks.”

Ral took the bag and peered inside. It was filled with rice. His stomach immediately growled. Carbs were hard to come by these days. How long had Lavinia been carrying this round with her with no means to turn it into something edible? Tomik peered over Ral’s arm and gasped.

“We can use those spices I found in that house,” he exclaimed, “And-and we have some cold pigeon. We can make a proper meal!”

Ral had never heard someone so excited about rice, but he couldn’t help but share in Tomik’s joy.

“For all three of us,” Ral confirmed, “Lavinia, you’re a miracle.”

She gave a weak shrug before returning to her coffee. They let her drink for a few minutes more before they pressed her for answers about the world beyond their walls.

“I haven’t let the district,” she began, “But I can tell, even beyond, things are looking bleak. That hailfire, whatever it’s called, it decimated every building above two storeys as far as the eye can see. I don’t know why New Prahv survived. I can’t get in there either. The whole place has been sealed up with magic beyond my understanding.”

“Have you been alone all this time?” Tomik asked.

She shook her head.

“I had some recruits with me for a while. Young cadets who needed someone to look up to, to get them through this. But one by one they couldn’t handle it anymore. Lost the first two to a Rakdos pleasure den. There’s a camp of about three dozen survivors in there, or at least there was when I got out of there. They’re slowly killing themselves with drink, masochism and opiates. I don’t expect them to see the new year.”

Tomik nodded mournfully, staring into his own mug.

“The next one I lost to the Selesnyans,” Lavinia continued, “There’s a vernadi down south that’s still standing. However its creepy there, even for Selesnya standards. Some priest has set himself up as the new Voice of the World Soul and they’re all worshipping him like a god made real. The cadet’s probably alive, but I don’t think his mind’s intact.”

She gave a heavy sigh and pulled a hipflask off her belt. She emptied the last few drops inside into her coffee. It now smelled absolutely foul.

“And then there was me and one cadet. She was Azorius to the core, utterly against the moral corruption we’d lost her compatriots too. We heard rumour that a party of survivors managed to get out of Deadbridge, so we went to go check it out. As far as we could tell, they had. But so had a band of Erstwhile.”

“What’s happening in the Undercity?” Ral asked.

“The whole things blocked off,” Lavinia replied, taking a swig of her drink, “Every entrance, official and unofficial. Of course the Golgari court closed most of them off at the beginning of the war, no citizens allowed in or out. But that just spelled their doom.”

“The Erstwhile,” Tomik murmured. Lavinia nodded.

“Trapped like rats in a cage,” she said, “It was either stay in civilisation and get slaughtered, or chance the wilds and hope you could fight off all the demons and horrors out there. The Erstwhile sealed off what exits hadn’t yet been closed. They dammed the rivers, blocked the chutes with the corpses of those they had slain. Now there’s a group wandering about Deadbridge, no further than the guildgate, but getting in or out of there is suicide. As my poor cadet found out.”

“We’re sorry for your loss,” Tomik said. His words rang kind of empty in the silence that followed. They were all sorry for their losses, but there had been so many. So much death and nothing to be done.

“Did you find the Golgari party?” Ral asked. Lavinia shook her head.

“Saw their tracks I think. Party of seven, all humanoid. Heavily burdened judging by their prints. At least two figures in armour. I’m keeping an eye out for them, but, I saw those prints two weeks ago. They could be dead now for all I know.”

Ral was about to speak when Tomik started to cough. He pulled out another handkerchief and excused himself from the table, coughing into the white silk as Lavinia went on.

“It’s mostly just been me, surviving,” she concluded, “Sometimes I see shadows and think they’re people. I’m almost certain there’s Gruul about to the west, but we haven’t crossed paths. That’s probably for the better. The dragon was definitely thorough, that’s for sure.”

She sighed.

“But you’re still here,” she said to Ral, “You know you can leave right? Off into the stars.”

He’d had this conversation so many times with Tomik and yet his answer was still the same.

“Ravnica is my home,” he said firmly, “Tomik is my home. I’m not going anywhere.”

He sounded so stern that she clearly didn’t want to mention it again. Lavinia stayed with them for three days, helping out with repairs and even going out with Tomik, showing him the best places to hunt in the surrounding area. They came back with a small deer, more meat than Ral had seen in months. There was no way they could eat that much before it went off, so he immediately started working on a machine that would help them dry it out. He was fairly sure salt was involved if he did it conventionally, but Izzet common sense told him the process could be made a lot faster through scientific experimentation. It certainly kept him busy enough not to notice when Lavinia suddenly departed.

“She said she wasn’t one for goodbyes,” Tomik commented, watching as Ral hung a strip of venison from a large peg in his new device. The peg would lower the meat into a large glass canister, which would in turn have all the moisture sucked out of it. If it didn't blow up first...

“She said she’d come back though, when she’s next in the area.”

He started to cough into his handkerchief, immediately drawing Ral’s attention away from his meat-drier. He didn’t know whether he was just being an overly-concerned lover, but he was sure Tomik’s coughs had been getting worse lately. At first, they had been light throat-clearing noises, but now they came from deep within his lungs, a hacking sound reminiscent of inhaled laboratory fumes. As they lay in bed at night, he could feel Tomik’s whole torso shake with the force of his own convulsions. He curled in on himself, shuddering, until the fit had passed. He often woke them both up as his coughs turned to near-wretches. Every time Ral expressed his concern, Tomik said he was fine. He was eating perfectly well, moving fine and sleep came easily. However the coughing set fear into Ral’s heart every time he heard it. Something had to be the matter. Those weren’t normal human sounds.

Tomik continued to splutter into his handkerchief, almost bent double with the force of his hacking coughs. Ral strode over to him just as Tomik made a vomit-like sound into his hands, both clasped tighly over his mouth. Tomik shook from head to toe as he gasped for breath. His hands finally moved away from his mouth, and he couldn’t hide their contents fast enough.

His hands were streaked with blood and phlegm, the crumpled silk now crimson with a lump of what Ral could only call flesh, a gorey chunk the size of zino. Tomik looked up at him with wide watery eyes, Ral just stared at him in horror.

“I-I…” Tomik stammered.

A little blood dribbled down his lip and splattered onto his overalls.

“I think,” he looked down at his hands again and back at Ral.

“I think I need to tell you… h-how my parents died.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tomik gives Ral an explanation he never wanted to hear. More survivors turn up at their sanctuary.

Ral felt like his whole world had come crashing down about his ears. Again.

“Wh-What do you mean?” he replied, “T-Tomik you’re not. You’re not. You’re not going anywhere. You’re-“

Tears dripped down Tomik’s cheeks, mingling with the bloody streaks about his mouth and chin. He looked at his hands and shuddered.

“I need to clean up,” he said softly. However Ral wasn’t letting him go without a better explanation. He needed to know how Tomik’s parents had died? Why? Because Tomik was going the same way? Please, for all that was demonic and divine! To whatever selfish gods ran this wretched multiverse, please don’t let Tomik be dying!

“Tomik please,” he said, his voice fading to a desperate whisper, “Tomik please, tell me. Is-Is this what happened to your parents? The coughing? The blood? Are-are you…?”

He let the question hang open in the air, unable to say it.

“Ral,” Tomik murmured, “Ral, please, let me wash my hands. Then I’ll explain. Explain everything.”

Ral felt numb as he followed Tomik across the room and towards the sink. The chunk of flesh, whatever it was, struggled to fit the drain. It caused enough of a clog that Tomik had to prod it down with a spoon, hands shaking all the while. Once he was clean, he wandered over to their bed, entering the tank and waiting for Ral to join him. Ral hadn’t said a word since he’d let Tomik tidy himself up.

“Please,” Tomik said, as soon as they were both in the pile of blankets, “Please can you hold me?”

Ral did so immediately. He pulled Tomik onto his lap and wrapped his arms around the slighter man, burying his face in Tomik’s shoulder.

“Ral, I,” Tomik took a deep breath as convulsions threaten to overtake him, “Ral, I’m sorry.”

That was the last thing he wanted to hear right now.

“I thought,” Tomik continued, “No, I _forgot_. In everything that happened, it seemed so far away and unimportant. I was so focused on the now, I never thought that far ahead. None of my plans accounted for this. But it-it’s happening. Just like it did with them.”

“What’s happening?” Ral begged him, “Are-are you ill?”

Tomik nodded.

“It’s my family’s curse,” he said, “Every aristocratic family in the Orzhov has one, a curse I mean. Not-not always a literal magic curse, but sometimes it is magical in nature.”

He caught himself babbling and took another deep breath.

“For us, it’s a disease. A condition that ran through both my parents. No- no Vrona ever lives past the age of thirty-five.”

Ral looked up at him. Tomik wasn’t thirty-five. Thirty-five was years away!

“But-but you’re twenty-eight,” he managed.

Tomik nodded.

“And I’m not getting to thirty-five either,” he stated, his voice trembling. His hands grasped at Ral’s, almost desperately

“Our-our condition, it’s passed from generation to generation. Something is wrong, right down to our immune system, or our brains, we’re not entirely sure. When we get to a certain age, usually in our late twenties, early thirties, our body starts reject our internal organs. It doesn’t recognise them as part of the same body so-so…”

“It tries to destroy them,” Ral finished, “Tomik, your…”

“Lungs,” Tomik replied, “My left lung, if-if you want to be precise. My body is rejecting it. It’s trying to destroy it. It hurts, but I’m-I’m lucky. It went straight for my mother’s heart. It took only a few weeks for her, but I’ve had all this time. Multiple months, and I got to spend all that time with you.”

He let out a little hiccuping sound and Ral realised it was a sob.

“I meant to tell you I promise,” he said, “But-but…this is why I told you to go. To find another world where you could be happy. I-I didn’t want you to see this. I wanted to spare you the pain. I didn’t want you to have to stay here and watch me die.”

He turned around in Ral’s arms, wrapping his own about Ral’s shoulders.

“I watched my parents succumb to this. I can’t do that to you. There’s still time you know. You can go. Far away. Somewhere you don’t have to watch this happen.”

Tears streamed down his face as he let out another hiccup. Ral drew him closer, letting him bury his face in his tunic, as he ran a hand through the trembling man’s hair.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he told him, “Just like I said before. You’re my world. There isn’t any other for me out there.”

“But I’m dying,” Tomik protested, “_Ravnica_ is dying. Is it really worth of all the pain of losing everything? There might be another out there. Another world, another home, another guy who’ll-who’ll…”

He couldn’t finish the sentence.

“I-I want you to go,” he cried, “But I don’t want you to leave me.”

His chest convulsed and he instantly pulled another handkerchief out of his overalls. Clamping it over his mouth, he shuddered for a moment, but no noise, and thankfully no blood, came out.

“I’m not leaving you,” Ral insisted, smoothing back his hair and pressing a kiss to his forehead, “And I’m not going. What kind of man would I be if I left my love to die alone here?”

“A free one,” Tomik whimpered, “A living one. A man who could find happiness somewhere out there. Maybe even forget-“

Ral couldn’t help but speak over him in his passionate denial.

“Tomik, no,” he interrupted, “I’ve done that. I’ve journeyed across worlds, finding, screwing, forgetting. And I know, for sure, that there isn’t anyone like you anywhere. I am yours and I’m not going anywhere.”

Tomik flushed at his words. Even with tear-strewn eyes and blood-stained lips, he was still immensely handsome. He panted a little as Ral rearranged his hair about his face, straightening his glasses which he frequently had to bend back into shape. The sensation of his hot breath against the back of his hand made Ral think. If one of Tomik’s lungs was being destroyed, yet he was still breathing…

“Can you survive with just one lung?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Tomik replied, “There’s nothing to say the condition won’t spread to the other side. Or any other organs.”

“But for now,” Ral insisted, trying to stay positive, “You’ve lasted for months, coughing up blood, but otherwise... Your other lung clearly works. If you’re careful, if you don’t-“

Drown in your own blood. He couldn’t bring himself to say it. However, he couldn’t help but feel they weren’t as lost as he’d previously thought. Perhaps he was just being desperately optimistic, but this had to mean they had time. Time to do what? He wasn’t sure. If a cure lay on Ravnica, then Tomik’s parents and grandparents would surely have found it. But they didn’t just have Ravnica at their disposal. There had to be something, somewhere, that could help them.

“I don’t know,” Tomik mumbled, “It hurts and-and I’m scared.”

“We’ll find a way,” Ral promised him, “Between us. I know we will.”

Tomik gave him a shaky smile.

“Is this how I get you to go? Send you off to another world, looking for an impossible cure?”

Ral shook his head.

“I’ll be back before you know it. I won’t be gone for very long, you’ll see.”

Their routine shifted. Tomik still made traps and compulsively tidied their living space. Ral still explored the bowels of Nivix, seeking out anything to make the rest of their lives together that much better. He knew Nivix had once had a medical department – inventing new machinery for hospitals all over Ravnica. He’d never been there personally, which made it all the harder to find it now. However he was sure, if it was still intact, he’d be able to find something, anything, to help Tomik cope. Even if it was just painkillers, or some kind of mask with a filter. Anything to make life easier on what was left of his lungs. Tomik always looked thrilled at what he returned with. Ral discovered more breakrooms, with more coffee and more preserved goods like jam and tinned fruit. They sat in bed and ate peaches out the tin as the rain hammered on the stonework above. Finally, when the rain broke, they went scavenging together. Previously Tomik would do this by himself whilst Ral did his signal, but no more. He fussed, insisted that he could still explore solo, but Ral couldn’t leave him alone out there. Every shadow was a danger. Every surprise could ruin Tomik’s breathing, making him cough and choke. He tried to excuse his behaviour by saying that they could catch more when together – and proved it too. They wandered towards the more decimated remains and found a small boar. Tomik watched as Ral loaded the spare meat into his drier. There was no question as to whether they’d have jerky going forwards.

Ral finally found the medical department, or at least what remained of it. He found some surgical masks, there was no magic or mechanics to them but they would at least filter the air that Tomik was breathing. Tomik made a fuss about wearing one, trying to dissuade Ral with the sort of kisses he couldn’t have through the thick fabric. They came to a compromise that would allow for both the mask and kissing, though it came at a cost. Ral refused to let Tomik do anything that might compromise his ability to breath. That definitely included having a mouth full of Ral.

“But I want to-“

Ral drew Tomik back upwards so they lay chests together.

“We’re going to have to be gentle,” he said, “I’m not letting you get hurt just because you really love my cock.”

Tomik grumbled but was swiftly distracted by a hand on his bare ass.

Weeks passed and Tomik did his best to hide signs of weakness. However, Ral was too observant, too frightened, not to pick up on every moment of breathlessness. As promised, he made short trips to other planes. But he spent the entire time there wishing he was back home – terrified that he’d come back to a lifeless form in their bed. There was little medics on other planes could do without seeing the patient in question. They recommended him painkillers – herbs, tinctures, potions, but these disintegrated across the Blind Eternities, too organic to make the trip. He did manage to pick up a few, non-organic, things to make their lives better. New tools, thicker blankets, a cooking pot, fresh clothes and shoes, and a writing set for Tomik so he would never be out of ink. Tomik gasped in delight when presented with an actual shaving razor. He kissed Ral silly when presented with a set of pearl-grey robes, as fine as any he would have worn in the Orzhov. Just seeing that smile made Ral’s whole world seem brighter.

One night, just over a month after Tomik’s horrific explanation, he helped his boyfriend up the hatch in the adjacent workshop. Tomik never travelled very far these days, just to the apple tree and back. Occasionally a little further if Ral went with him. However, that night he asked Ral to help him up, asked him if he could look out Ravnica from where Ral fired his signals. They sat on the roof, surrounded by faintly-glowing cages, eating their evening meal of roast hawk and wild carrots. There was a fire burning in the distance, somewhere near the wreckage of Sunhome. A great column of smoke joined the already gloomy clouds overhead. The moon may have been full. It was hard to tell, the silvery light mostly obscured by cover. They relied on Ral’s occasional blasts of lightning, as well as the distant flames, to see anything at all.

“I miss the stars,” said Tomik, leaning his head against Ral’s shoulders.

“I never learnt what they were all called, but I miss them all the same.”

Ral put an arm round him.

“I used to name them for myself,” he replied, “When I was living on the streets. No one was going to tell me otherwise.”

“What did you call them?” Tomik asked, “Perhaps there’s no one left who knows their real names. We can label them all over again.”

“Nothing mature,” Ral chuckled, “I feel like it would be a disservice to Ravnica if we started calling its constellations things like ‘Hairy Man’s Butt’ or ‘Dick in the Sky’.

Tomik laughed before suddenly being overtaken by a series of hacking coughs. He shuddered in Ral’s arms, bent double, blood dripping off his chin and onto the stone below. Once the fit had subsided, he pulled out another scrap of cloth – an old ruined shirt, and wiped himself clean.

Ral hated it. Hated there was nothing he could do. Hated that he just had to sit here and believe everything would last, when it so clearly wouldn’t.

He channelled his frustration into a bolt, sending it crackling into the air. 

“Ral!” Tomik suddenly exclaimed.

He’d been so put out, he hadn’t even bothered to scan for a response. However, he followed Tomik’s pointing finger just in time to see the flare of green scatter in the sky. He immediately sent up another bolt. The reply came in the form of bright green streak of energy. It soared up into the air before blossoming outwards into a circle of faint green sparkles - resembling a flower growing at exceptional speed. Expecting Selesnyans, Ral kept on going. Each bolt was returned with another green light, getting ever closer. Tomik peered over the edge of the rooftop and let out a loud ‘ah!” when he finally saw them approach.

“Ral, there’s six of them!”

Ral sent out another bolt before joining Tomik at the edge. There were indeed six figures running towards Nivix. Each one had a heavy pack on their backs, laden with what looked like cooking supplies and weapons. Some wore cloaks and others long coats, the two in the lead were glowing green, lighting the way ahead. Three of the group ran separately, but the three at the back had locked arms, the two either side supporting the figure in the middle. They were all sprinting as fast as their legs would allow.

“Wait outside!” Ral bellowed down.

“I’ll come let you in.”

His response was another shot of green energy and a shout of

“Ok!” from down below.

He and Tomik went back down the hatch. He left Tomik sat in the kitchen before running full speed to the main entrance. Pushing aside bars, pipes and trolleys, as soon as the door was open enough for one person, they slipped inside and helped him pull the heavy metal wide enough for the trio. The faintly glowing pair came in first, illuminating the entire corridor, the other four weren’t far behind. As soon as the door was shut behind them, and he was assisted in rearranging the blockade, he stepped back to see who exactly he’d found.

They weren’t Selesnyans.

They were Golgari.

Ral was willing to bet all the jerky they had, that this was Lavinia’s Golgari party. She’d said there were seven, but it was possible that she was mistaken, or they had lost a member in the months since Lavinia had seen their trail. The two glowing individuals were gorgons – their hands lit up with identical bright green magic. A lot else about them was identical too, enough that Ral was fairly sure they were twins. The female on the left wore black leather armour, an array of knives on her hips and a sword strapped to her back over the large pack she carried. The male (Ral didn’t know gorgons had males but he struggled to be surprised these days), carried a staff topped with a singular glowing mushroom. He was also wearing armour, but underneath he had a set of ragged deep green robes. So a melee fighter and a mage, both with magic, right. Ral turned to the others. The third solo runner was a devkarin elf, similarly clad in dark leathers. Her hair was in ratty braids and her moodmarks were almost lost to the amount of muck covering her face. She nodded at Ral as he stared at her. She was clearly wounded, her arm bandaged up tight, but she stood with a sense of pride and dignity that Ral couldn’t help but respect.

The final three parted. One member stepping into the light whilst the other hung back to support their comrade. Golgari number four was another gorgon. She was taller than her fellows, with blue-ish scales and fierce green eyes. Armed to the teeth, there wasn’t space on her person for any more weapons. Two shortswords, knives, what looked like a spiked metal chain, a bandoleer of vials and a long metal pole strapped across her back. She had black leather armour like her fellows, they appear to have been outfitted at the same armoury, wherever that might be.

“You’re Guildmaster Zarek,” said the third gorgon. She sounded a little out of breath but otherwise brimming with confidence.

“I am, or I was,” he replied, “And you are?”

She offered him one gloved hand, which he shook.

“Mia, once her Majesty’s Finisher. Still, her Majesty’s Finisher, if I have anything to say about it.”

“Finisher?” Ral repeated. An odd title and not one he knew about amongst the Golgari.

“I finish whoever her Majesty wants finished,” Mia explained, “Pretty useful in a court of scheming traitors. Still useful when there’s godforsaken Erstwhile marching around.”

It occurred to Ral that this gorgon might be younger than she looked. There was excitement in her tone despite the desperateness of her situation. Ral didn’t think she could be any older than twenty, maybe twenty-one.

“Let me make introductions,” said Mia, gesturing to her group.

“The twins are Eliza and Emile.”

The glowing gorgons nodded their heads.

“We still serve Her Majesty,” said Eliza, “I was once her housekeeper, now, I do what needs to be done.”

Her tone was very grim, with none of the ‘Finisher’s’ excitement.

“I-I’m a herbalist,” said Emile, his voice a little higher pitched than Ral had expected, “And-and a medic. I used to be a gardener but, well, I’m more useful now.”

Ral’s heart leapt at the idea of taking this medic to Tomik. He wasn’t sure what the gorgon could do, but if he could do something, even just to ease the pain…

The devkarin didn’t wait for Mia to introduce her. She stepped forward, offering Ral her hand. Her grip was incredibly tight.

“The name’s Darja, I’m Ochran, or what’s left of us anyway. Me and the Queen, we’re all the Ochran’s got now.”

They kept mentioning their Queen. Ral could only assume they meant Vraska, and by the way they spoke… He set his gaze on the two figures still standing in the shadows of the door. He lit up his gauntlet as he approached.

Standing amidst the pipes and trolleys were a pair of figures in identical black armour. A human male was holding onto the arm of a tall woman, also armed with blades, except unlike her fellows, her entire face was lost to a long tattered black veil. The man winced at the sparking electrics as Ral got even closer. He was a scrawny looking human with black hair and weak grey eyes, that watered in the bright light. He had knives on his belt, but no sword, pole or other weapon. It seemed his purpose in this group was to stick close to the woman, for she had a hand on his arm but was looking entirely the opposite direct, towards Ral’s electrics.

“Vraska?” Ral tried. There was an intake of breath from the assembled Golgari, as if scandalised he would be so bold as to address their Queen by her name.

She merely nodded however.

“Ral,” she replied, her voice gravelly with obvious pain, “Long time no see.”

Vraska still stood tall, her armour the same as her group’s but she wore it with an imperious grace. She had her cutlass strapped to her hip, over a long leather coat that had certainly seen better days. Her group was all in black but she was the only one with visible signs of mourning. The veil looked like it had once been the skirts of someone’s dress – the last traces of embroidery clinging about is edges.

“My Queen,” piped up the man at her side, “May I suggest we find somewhere to sit? To rest?”

“Who are you exactly?” Ral asked him. He jumped as if shocked.

“My-my name is Cyrus,” he stammered, “I’m nobody important. Just-”

“He _is_ important,” Vraska interrupted, “Cyrus here serves as my eyes, for which I am infinitely grateful.”

Her eyes? What had happened to her eyes? There was a story here but as Cyrus suggested, this group looked like they dearly needed somewhere to rest.

“Follow me,” he told them, “And don’t touch anything not marked with an X. I haven’t disarmed this whole place yet.”

“Do as the man says,” Vraska ordered. The Golgari mumbled amongst themselves but formed an orderly line as Ral led them back through the winding maze that was Nivix. Once back in the sanctuary, Ral directed them to the unused workshop, apologising for there only being three mattresses. The Golgari waved off his concerns, setting down their packs with many sighs of relief, and revealing ample blankets and bedrolls as they began to make themselves at home. Vraska put her pack down and turned to Ral and Tomik – the latter of which had joined them to greet the new arrivals.

“We have plenty of food,” she informed them, “Game, vegetables, dried goods. As well as supplies such as matches and dry wood. We are more than willing to share in thanks for providing us shelter.”

“The food is much appreciated,” said Ral, “We have enough to feed us both but six more mouths would be a struggle, even for our traps. We have cold storage, and the facilities to dry meat. You are welcome to use them.”

Vraska nodded and signalled to the group to start unloading their rations. They did indeed have a lot of food. They had clearly been hunting that day for Ral was presented with three whole geese, a brace of rabbits and what looked like a young cronch, hacked into bits for easier carrying. They also had vegetables – wild carrots like the ones they’d found growing by the apple tree, but also marrows, parsnips, potatoes and a whole bag filled with tomatoes. Whilst that was being carried into the kitchen, Emile hurried up to his queen and presented her with solitary slice of mushroom.

She took it, eating it in one mouthful

“Thank you Emile, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The gorgon flushed at the praise and went back to ferrying vegetables between workshops.

“What’s that for?” asked Tomik, watching the proceedings with fascination in his eyes.

“The pain,” Vraska commented, but didn’t elaborate any further.

“Do you have anymore?” Ral asked, “We don’t have any painkillers and Tomik is-is…”

“Emile!” Vraska suddenly called, cutting Ral off mid-stammer. The gorgon was back in an instant.

“Yes Sister Vraska! I mean, your Majesty!”

“Sister is fine,” she said fondly, “How much demon’s lace do we still have?”

He immediately hurried over to his pack and picked out a large brown canvas bag.

“Three bushels, Sister,” he replied, “Enough for a few months.”

“If our allies help us find some soil,” she continued, “Do you think we can grow more Brother?”

“Of course!” Emile replied, “With a large enough trough, and a little encouragement, we could have our own crop within days.”

Vraska turned her head back towards Ral and Tomik, her veil swaying with the movement.

“Then you have your answer. We will have all the painkillers we need if you can help Emile to a basin or trough, and some soil.”

“We can get soil from the apple tree,” said Tomik, his voice suddenly hushed, as if the thought of finally receiving some pain relief was overwhelming him.

“Please, Ral, I-“

“You don’t need to ask,” Ral told him, kissing him on the cheek.

“We’ve got more than enough containers,” he told Vraska, “Can I borrow some of your help to haul the soil back indoors. It’s going to be at least a two man job.”

“Take Mia and Cyrus,” she said. Cyrus let out a small noise of objection.

“I will be fine for this little while,” she assured him, “Think of how better it’ll be when we can start farming our own fungi. We won’t be short on food for quite some time.”

Cyrus let out a mumble of agreement, before following Ral out the door.

When Ral returned, carrying a huge metal canister full of soil, Cyrus and Mia close behind with two metal bins of the stuff, he found that Tomik had led Vraska into the kitchen. They sat at the worktop with Emile as Tomik poured eight steaming cups of coffee.

“So I just have to take a little bit of mushroom every three hours?” Tomik was asking Emile.

“Yes,” said the gorgon, “I’ll measure out the doses for you, just like I do for Sister Vraska. You can eat it whole, or it works just as well ground into a powder and added to food.”

“Are there any side-effects?” Tomik asked. The Golgari party had brought sugar with them. Ral could tell his delight as he added a spoonful to his coffee.

“Only for the first few doses,” said Emile, “Your body will need to get used to it. After the first day or so, it is no different than taking than any medication.”

“What happens in the first day?” asked Ral, joining them as Tomik handed out coffee to the assembled Golgari. The good thing about raiding so many breakrooms is they had a lot of mugs.

“A little light-headedness,” said Vraska, “I’ve been told that colours become a lot more intense, sometimes you start seeing things. I got rather dizzy, but it is manageable, I promise. And I have not felt that way since.” She laid her hand on Cyrus’ arm as she steadied herself in her seat.

Ral and Tomik shared a look. As long as it didn’t mess with Tomik’s breathing, it should be fine. One day of a mushroom high was probably worth all the pain relief thereafter.

Tomik nodded.

“I’ll try it. Thank you.”

That night they had the best meal Ral had experienced in months Roast goose with potatoes and green vegetables. The workshop was full of the sound of people eating and talking. The company, however strange, was a marvel to behold. They swapped survival stories – of battles fought, treasures looted and other people they’d found upon the road.

“The Undercity is-is lost,” Cyrus managed, allowing Vraska to rest her voice and eat up.

“The Erstwhile, they are everywhere, and they slaughter without question. When the dragon took control of them, gave them new orders, he gave them an intelligence we’ve never seen before in the undead. They’re not sentient, but they’re like machines, they have logical processes. They can plan, reason, set up ambushes.”

“Bastards,” said Mia, wiping her mouth on her sleeve, “And those filthy kraul did nothing to help us. As soon as Mazirek turned on us, they all fled. Most of them got slaughtered on the way out. Even that traitorous bastard didn’t survive the onslaught. Guess the dragon didn’t have any further use for him.”

Ral noticed that Vraska’s hands were trembling. Cyrus leaned forward to take her plate off her but she waved him off, assuring him that she was fine.

“They caved every entrance, exit, chute, you name it,” Eliza added, “We were lucky to get out. If it wasn’t for Sister Vraska’s quick thinking, disguising our traces as necrotic like theirs… we’d never got out at all.”

“It was a group effort,” Vraska replied, “I would have achieved nothing on my own.”

There was a murmur of agreement about the circle they’d made beside the furnace.

Conversation lapsed back into chatter about fallen buildings and surprising scavenges. However as they talked, Ral couldn’t help but stare at the veil that masked Vraska’s features. He could occasionally see the tips of her hair as it moved, pressing up against the fabric, but her face was entirely obscured from view.

“I’m sorry,” he stated, as Emile and Eliza volunteered to wash up, “But, Vraska, I need to ask.”

“The veil?” she replied, “Yes, Cyrus mentioned you’d been looking at it.”

Ral glanced at Cyrus, who gave a guilty look at the floor. He must have missed them whispering amongst the lively conversation.

“You’re blind?” Ral continued, “When did that happen?”

She let out a long sigh, slumping a little in her seat. She passed her empty plate to Cyrus, who in turn gave it to Eliza. She reached up her taloned fingers to the hem of her veil, and with one smooth flicking motion, the fabric fluttered back over her head.

Tomik gasped and then immediately entered a coughing fit. Ral rushed to his aid, rubbing his back, but keeping his eyes on what was clearly painful for Vraska to show. Her smile was immensely sad, if she was capable, he imagined she would have been crying.

Except she didn’t have any eyes.

“Bolas,” she said simply, “He didn’t even deign to finish me off.”

“What happened?” asked Ral, a little breathless at the sight of those dark empty sockets. The rest of her face was relatively unmarred by war or conflict. But when it came to those sockets, even her eyelids hadn’t been spared, leaving two dark holes were they had once been.

“I tried to petrify him,” Vraska stated, “A desperate move. Not really one I expected to work. I expected death. I would die, defending my home, defending Ravnica. But he wouldn’t even allow me that. He turned the spell against me. I don’t know how, or what, he did. But it burnt the eyes clean out of my skull. And now I’m this. A hideous monster, blind, helpless, left amidst the ruins of her home.”

“You’re not a monster,” Cyrus insisted, a little strength filling his tone.

“You’re not Big Sis,” said Mia, “And you’re not helpless either. The way you sliced that Rakdos clown in half was inspirational!”

“You tried to save my Matka,” Darja added, “Even though she tried to assassinate you so many times in the past. That was when I knew, my Queen, you weren’t the monster the other devkarin made you out to be. You’re the Queen we should have had, maybe not the Queen we deserved, but you’re a hero through and through.”

Colour rose to Vraska’s cheeks.

“You’re all very sweet. It’s just… hard, to adjust the way things are.”

“Amen to that,” Ral murmured, “Does anyone want more coffee?”

As the night wore on, the Golgari retired to the adjacent workshop, leaving Ral and Tomik in peace. Ral couldn’t help but feel good at about their new residents. Sure they were a little creepy to look at, but they were good, kind-hearted, people and more than willing to go above and beyond for their new residence. Tomorrow, he would take Darja and Mia scavenging into Nivix. The gorgon and elf were incredibly strong and it helped to have good lifters when going through the wreckage. Emile was going to set up his mushroom farm. He had eagerly told Ral and Tomik that he had enough soil and containers to grow them both painkillers and plenty of edible mushrooms too. Ral doubted that a mushroom could really taste like beef, but at this point he was willing to give it a go. Vraska, it turned out, was very good with a needle and thread, even with her lack of eyesight. She needed her assistant to thread the needle, but once going, she repaired a number of shirts and torn sheets over the course of their conversation, once the crockery had been put away. She wanted to create tents out of some canvas in other lab, to give her subjects some semblance of personal space. Considering he and Tomik had the tank, he was more than happy to let her do this, and suggested she could go into his scrap for framework.

As he got ready for bed, he entered the tank to find Tomik sat up waiting for him. He had a slightly dazed look on his face, but he was smiling softly.

“Ral,” he said, his voice slightly dream-like. Ral quickly realised he must have taken some of the mushroom and was now feeling the effects.

“Yes?” Ral replied, “How do you feel?”

“Really good,” Tomik murmured, “Like, like everything is just so soft.”

He patted the sheets around him.

“So soft,” he repeated.

Ral dearly hoped that whatever this effect was did wear off. He settled into the pillows, bringing Tomik with him.

“Ral,” said Tomik again, this time a little sleepily.

“Yes?”

“I can see colours,” Tomik told him. Ral frowned. So could he, but probably not the colours Tomik was seeing.

“I can see magic,” Tomik elaborated, “Around all of us. And if I really concentrate…”

He frowned.

“I know things.”

Ral wasn’t sure whether he was high, or speaking the truth, or both. 

“What do you know?” he asked.

Tomik took hold of Ral’s sleeve and drew him in closer, watching the entrance to their tank.

“The human,” he whispered, “Cyrus. He’s not who he says he is.”

Ral blinked at him, suddenly rigid with alarm. 

“What are you talking about?”

“He’s a liar,” Tomik said, his breath caught in his throat for a moment before he carried on. His voice turning slightly sing-song.

“He’s pretending to be someone else. He’s-he’s magic, magic is about him. So many layers, all different colours. The magic coming off him is all different, but there’s so much. I can see it when I look at him. If the gorgons, and Darja, and I are a campfire, then you…you and him, you’re furnaces. And Vraska, her too, you’re so bright, so colourful… It’s like a magic rainbow. ”

Ral’s eyes widened. Someone with magic as strong as his own? If he was to be believed, what Tomik was describing could only be another planeswalker. And he knew only one who would go to such lengths to disguise who he was. Only one that could stick by Vraska’s side but pretend he was on the other side of the multiverse.

“Do you think it’s him?” Ral asked Tomik. Tomik let out a little sigh.

“I think he’s a _maaagical_ rainbow.”

That…wasn’t helpful.

Tomik snuggled into the side of him, eyes closing as he nuzzled against Ral’s shoulder. Ral thought for a moment that he’d dozed off when suddenly he said:

“Tomorrow… I’ll make a circle. Then we’ll see what colour he really is.”

“Alright.” Ral drew him a little closer, smoothing back his hair and laying a goodnight kiss to his forehead.

“Tomorrow.”

Sleep well _Cyrus_, Ral thought to himself. It was certainly the last night’s sleep he’d have in blissful anonymity.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the Golgari party build tents, Tomik and Vraska get talking. Cyrus' true identity comes to light.

Even the best laid plans had to wait when your boyfriend was as high as a kite. Unfortunately, the morning’s routine didn’t wait for anyone. The Golgari party were all up and moving about by the time Ral and Tomik left their tank for the day. Ral considered shooing Emile off when he offered Tomik more mushroom, but knew it would be selfish to leave Tomik in pain just because he was scared of Undercity medicine. Instead, he let Tomik eat the slice of mushroom whole before helping him to a seat next to Vraska and ‘Cyrus’, who were drawing out plans for tents on the back of an old tattered flier. Cyrus was eating jerky but it seemed Vraska was ignoring hers. It sat on a small plate by her elbow as she instructed Cyrus in what to draw. As Ral considered the day ahead, it seemed like a good idea to go actually inspect the man before they went shoving him in a verity circle and accusing him of lying. As much as Ral trusted Tomik, he had been absolutely off his head with mushroom, so he needed to confirm his theory before they acted on it. As he ate breakfast, he took a deep breath and reached out with his magic. As far as he knew, Vraska had absolutely no way of sensing what he was doing, she couldn’t even see the resulting crackles of energy, and if Cyrus was in fact innocent, he wouldn’t either. Ral used his power to seek out other magical traces in the room. The gorgons about immediately drew his attention, like spots of deep dark energy, moving about the room. Vraska was less like a beacon and more like a black hole, her power seemed linked to the very nature of death itself and it made Ral shiver where he sat. Tomik meanwhile felt like a pillar of immovable light. Cold yet bright as sunlight, he shone where he sat, just like he’d always done, drugs or no drugs. Then Ral moved his attention to Cyrus.

Cyrus was a wall. An impenetrable wall of magic that Ral could not slip through no matter how hard he tried. The defences were so well laid that there was no doubt in Ral’s mind that this man was a mage of considerable power. And no one could defend their thoughts, and magic, better than a mind mage.

“Hey, Boss!”

Ral jumped, his attention snapping back to the ephemeral. He turned to see Mia the gorgon waiting for him. She had her large pole strapped to her back and looked expectant. Darja was stood a little way behind her, surveying Ral’s meat drying machine.

“Are you ready to get exploring?” Mia asked.

Ral nodded.

“Yes, let’s head out. We’ll be focusing on scrap, piping, maybe old metal support work, so we can build your tents.”

He got to his feet.

“Don’t touch anything unless I tell you. Even I don’t know what experiments we might find.”

His team were amazingly competent. They weren’t versed in Izzet tech, but he didn’t expect them to be. The fact that they indeed, didn’t touch anything without his permission, and always stood at the safe distance when he was trying something, made them far superior to teams he’d worked with in the past. Whilst Ral needed to light his way with his gauntlets, both the devkarin and the gorgon were able to see through the darkness. This enabled them to spot things that Ral undoubtedly would have missed. They came back with bags full of scrap, and a trolley full of useful supplies. Once it was all unpiled in the scrap corner, and what they needed for their tents was chosen, Ral went back into the main room.

There, Tomik was sitting alone in the kitchen.

“Where’s Vraska?” he asked.

Tomik gave a little sigh, resting his head in his hand.

“Being violently ill in the bathroom,” he said, “Cyrus is helping her through it.”

Ral frowned, taking a seat opposite Tomik’s.

“Is that why she’s been taking mushroom?” he asked. It had just occurred to him that he’d yet to ask her why she needed such intensive pain relief. At first he’d assumed it was for her eyes, however the sockets seemed to have healed very cleanly, if you considered two dark holes ‘healed’. Tomik picked up one of the many pieces of paper littering the worktop and turned it over to reveal an old sheet of research notes.

“Yes,” he replied, “She’s been sick for quite some time. We talked. Emile has tried everything he can. They even visited the Selesnya cult for a bit. She’s now certain that it isn’t an illness, at least not one that can be cured.”

“Like-Like yours,” Ral managed.

Tomik nodded solemnly.

“Yes, like mine,” he sighed, pushing the notes aside, “Except my condition lets me eat. Hers…it’s her stomach. Her stomach is failing, she can barely digest anything, and even if she manages to a bit, well, the results aren’t pleasant.”

Ral thought back to the fact Vraska had refused her breakfast that morning. Now he knew why.

“She doesn’t want any pity,” Tomik continued, “I can respect that. I can understand why she wants to keep going until she finally gives out. She had so much power once. She was a planeswalker, a Guildmaster, a Queen. Now she’s crippled, she’s lost her home and her own body is slowly killing her. She’s been burning the candle at both ends and…and it’ll burn out soon enough.”

Ral couldn’t help but hear the self-reflection in his speech. Even if he wasn’t explicitly saying it, Tomik had found a kinship in Vraska. He’d once been powerful, a lawmage, an advokist, serving one of the most powerful women in Ravnica. Now his books and his laws were useless. He couldn’t do any sort of strenuous activity without struggling to breath. His body was killing him, but he was refusing to let go, fighting to do all he could before his time ran out… Ral reached across the table to take his hand with his own. Tomik flashed him a warm smile as he gave a comforting squeeze.

“How long?” Ral asked.

“A month, she thinks. The less she eats the weaker she gets.” Tomik said softly, “That’s why she came here. She wanted somewhere safe to leave her family. Somewhere they could start a new community, live safely.”

Ral nodded. The Golgari party had already proved themselves. They were more than welcome to make Nivix their home.

“And you?” he asked, “How are you holding up?”

Tomik tried to smile again but it came as more of a grimace.

“The pain relief makes it tolerable,” he said, “It doesn’t hurt to breath anymore but…”

He ran a hand over his chest.

“It still hurts to move. I think there’s liquid where there shouldn’t be. I can’t cough it all out.”

He didn’t have to say it. Ral knew what he was implying. Tomik could breathe with just the one lung, but he was more likely to drown before he suffocated.

“I love you.” Ral didn’t know why he had to say it then, but the need seized him before he could push it back down. Tomik gave a shaky little laugh that rattled in his chest.

“I love you too,” he said fondly, “I really did want to become a Zarek one day. I had a robe picked out and everything.”

Ral’s eyes widened and the hand holding Tomik’s clutched a little tighter.

“You-you could still be, if you want,” he said, “We-we could come up with something. Vraska’s a Guildmaster too, she could officiate.”

Tomik laughed again, so hard that he began to cough and splutter. Blood soaked his handkerchief as he hacked up what could only be a considerable chunk of lung. Ral was at his side in an instant, rubbing his back as he gagged and choked up gore. One more handkerchief thoroughly ruined, he took a large gulp of water as soon as he was done heaving. Tears coursed down Tomik’s cheeks as he wobbled to his feet. Ral supported him every step of the way, but let him do what he felt necessary. He disposed of the handkerchief in the bin Emile had marked ‘medical waste’ and washed his hands in the sink. Ral found some paper towel and helped him clean his face. Tomik tried to stop his tears by wiping them away with his fingertips, but they didn’t stop falling no matter how hard he tried.

“I-I love you so much,” he sobbed, “You-you… amazing, kind, gorgeous idiot.”

Before Ral could do or say anything, he got down on one knee, clasping at Ral’s hand with both his own.

“Marry me, Ral Zarek. Let’s celebrate us. Let’s find some joy in this hellhole of the world. Marry me, please?”

Ral grabbed his hands and hoisted him to his feet. He gently wrapped his arms round him and kissed, first his forehead, then his lips.

“Of course I’ll marry you,” he said, close to tears himself, “I’ll get you the most gorgeous robe in the multiverse. I’ll have Emile grow us whatever flowers you fancy. We’ll-we’ll have a proper wedding, right here in this guildhall with a feast and music and-and,”

He couldn’t hold back the tears. He held Tomik close, held him as if by love alone he could extend the time they had together. Tomik wrapped his arms round him and rested his head on Ral’s shoulders. They remained in that state for a long time, occasionally sharing kisses, but mostly revelling in the other’s company.

They were still standing like that when the door creaked open and a soft ‘oh’ came from the doorway. They broke apart to see Vraska and Cyrus had returned. Vraska had an arm over Cyrus’ shoulders as he helped her back across the workshop. He eased her onto a low chair – an old office chair Ral had salvaged, before kneeling at her side.

“I’m sorry,” Vraska said softly, her voice was raw and sounded extremely painful. Tomik picked up another glass of water off the worktop and crossed over to hand it to her.

“It-It was rude to leave the conversation so abruptly,” she continued, after taking a small sip.

“I understand,” Tomik said gesturing for Ral to join them in the small cluster of seats.

“Ral’s back. He found everything we need to make tents.”

“Thank you,” Vraska seemed to be trying to address Ral but she had no idea where he was. Her veil was gone, meaning the direction of her head was clearly visible. Ral cleared his throat as he took a seat with Tomik on another pair of office chairs.

“Mia and Darja have started on the frames,” he said, “I’ll help them when it comes to welding, but they’re doing pretty well so far.”

Vraska nodding, taking more sips of her water.

“We were talking about the war,” Tomik prompted gently, clearly wishing to resume the conversation he’d been having with Vraska.

“When was the last time you saw another planeswalker?”

She swallowed another mouthful of water and let out a small sigh.

“After the leonin fell,” she said, her voice still painful sounding, “That was the last of it. Everyone who still fought lost confidence and fled. I saw a young man who had been with the leonin as he died, walk away with a haze of geometric patterns. No idea who he was, or where he came from, but I guess he’s back there now.”

“And he was the last?” Tomik asked. Vraska nodded, paused, then shook her head.

“The last stranger,” she said, “I-I went into the Undercity, to see if I could rally the survivors. That’s where he found me. I was so glad to see he was alive, it was a relief like nothing else.”

Her tone had lightened considerably. There was only one ‘he’ Ral could think of that would have such an effect on her. It was no secret that the Golgari Guildmaster had been involved with Jace Beleren during the last days of the War.

“The Guildpact?” Tomik said.

Vraska nodded.

“H-He was at wit’s end. His Gatewatch were dead or scattered. He had lost his connection to Ravnica. But he came to find me. He had to know whether I was alive. He wanted to protect me, it-it was very sweet.”

She smiled. The edges of her pointed teeth were bloody, no doubt from when she’d been sick.

“He didn’t know what to do. Ravnica was his home, but he knew that it was lost. He knew there were other places, other worlds, where he could find allies, track down his family, maybe even make a new home. He wanted me to come with him.”

“But you didn’t,” said Ral. His gaze was fixed on Cyrus. The man’s expression was completely impassive, as if he’d replaced his features with a stationary image of them.

Vraska’s smile turned sad.

“I stayed. Ravnica is my home. Ravnica is where I was born and Ravnica is where I will die. I gave everything for the Golgari, I made myself a champion for the downtrodden and the wretched. What is more wretched than the state of the world now?”

She wrapped both hands about her glass, as if it were the hilt of a sword.

“So I told him. I told him to go. To find somewhere safe. To live his life free, happy, out there in the multiverse. He protested. We both cried. But I told him. I told him that nothing would cause me greater happiness than knowing he was ok. And it’s true. Knowing that he is away from all this is the greatest comfort the multiverse has to offer me right now. Knowing he is free to pursue his happiness, brings me joy, and that’s all I want. For him to be away from here, safe and happy. I like to think he’s found better places to explore. Made new friends. Maybe even got back in contact with his family. Perhaps he’s told them about me.”

Cyrus shifted a little on the floor beside her, his face still a total mask.

“I’ve-I’ve never been in love before,” Vraska commented, “I’ve been on dates. Tried to be in relationships. But those didn’t feel as real, or as strong as what I felt for him.”

“I can understand that,” Ral commented. Tomik smiled and leaned his head on his shoulder again.

“Most people look at me and expect I’m there to kill them,” said Vraska, a painful chuckle breaking through her speech, “But he looked at me and saw something worth admiring, worth caring about. I can’t remember the last person to do that, a person before him.”

“He was the one, wasn’t he?” Tomik commented softly, “The one who makes your heart race when he smiles. All his odd little habits just make him charming, adorable even, and even when you know each other through and through, he brings you joy in the most unexpected ways.”

Ral blushed as Tomik glanced up at him from his shoulder

Vraska meanwhile, merely nodded.

“He was. I miss him so much, but, it’s better that he’s safe. That he has a chance to start again. It’s good to know, that after everything I’ve done. After everything I’ve been. There was something in me he saw that was worth loving. I can die happy knowing that somewhere out there, he’ll remember me.”

She made a small sniffing noise. It was distinctly possible that she was trying to cry, but couldn’t.

Their conversation moved onto what Vraska had done with the Guildpact before the war. The time they’d spent together as pirates. She entertained them with tales of the open seas, of drunken rogues and a floating city made entirely of wrecked ships. They hung off her every word as she described storm-tossed seas, ships bearing cathedrals on their backs and scaled and feathered beasts larger than wagons, larger even than houses. By the time her tale was done, her audience had doubled in number. The gorgon trio had joined them, and as soon as she was done talking, Eliza piped up:

“We’ve got the frames for four tents.”

Ral immediately went and helped them weld the pipes together. Constructing tents took most of the rest of the day, but when they were done they had four tents, each constructed from metal piping and a patchwork of mismatched canvas. The tents were roughly hexagonal, just tall enough to enable a person to stand inside, and wide enough for someone to sleep comfortably within its walls. As Ral finished erecting the last tent, he noticed that someone, probably Emile, had pried some of the metal plating off the workshop wall. What lay beyond was a hollowed out space full of metal bins and troughs. It was very dark but perhaps that suited their new mushroom farm.

“What’s that?” he asked Emile as the gorgon helped him fasten down canvas.

“Oh, we found a panel,” said Emile, “The rest of the wall was solid, but when we tapped against that part, it made a noise. Eliza helped me pry it up and there was a lot of stuff stored in there. We decided to put the mushrooms in there because it’s dark and damp, they like that.”

“What was in there before?” Ral asked, wondering how he’d never spotted the panel on his many trips through this room.

“Paint pots, brushes, some tools and some sheet metal,” said Emile, “Eliza put them next to your pile.”

Ral immediately went and had a look. There wasn’t just some sheet metal, there were two rolls of the stuff. He could make so many things! What things, he wasn’t sure, but so many of them! He looked round for Tomik to tell him about this new find, when he realised that his fiancé was nowhere to be seen. Frowning, he checked the kitchen and then wandered over to their tank. Sure enough, in the small space between the tank and the wall, Tomik stood. There was just enough space to comfortably walk around behind it, but the shadows made it a slightly uncomfortable passage. Tomik however, didn’t seem to mind. Concealed behind the tank, he was tracing sigils into the wall with his finger. Ral watched, trying to make head or tail of what he was doing. Definitely some kind of enchantment, and by the placement, a large one as well.

“What are you up to?” he asked. Tomik turned to him. His expression was very serious.

“Binding spot,” he said, “I’ve already mapped out the Verity Circle. However we may need to reinforce the area to keep him in it.”

So he remember his own mushroom-fever plans?

“Once everyone has gone to bed,” Tomik said, “I want you to get ‘Cyrus’ out here, tell him something about creating tools for Vraska, something you want to talk about privately. Then we interrogate him.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Ral surveyed Tomik for signs of intoxication and found none.

“How are you doing? Have you had any pain relief?”

Tomik nodded.

“About half an hour ago. Emile was right, the effects do get better with time.”

He smiled.

“After we get a confession, I think we should plan that wedding of ours.”

Ral found himself blushing. He’d never imagined he’d get married, not in a million years. But now it was looking like a very close reality.

“Of course.” He tried to get close to Tomik to kiss him again, but his fiancé shooed him away.

“Circle is still forming,” he fussed, “Go check on the others, we don’t want to look suspicious.”

Once everyone was settling sleepily into their new tents, Ral stuck his head around the door to the other workshop. It looked like the Golgari had worked out some sort of arrangement with four tents and six people. Vraska and Cyrus had the largest tent, the two evidently sharing for convenience and in case Cyrus needed to help Vraska get up to be sick in the night. Beside them, in a tent of his own, was Emile. His tent was also serving as something of a doctor’s clinic. He had acquired some shelves and filled them with every medical supply they had. Next along was Eliza and Mia’s. Ral saw that Eliza had strung some sort of lace scarf about their tent to give it a little décor. Considering she had once been a housekeeper; he could only imagine that she longed to decorate the place to her liking. Well, they did have paints now. She could do that. Tent number four contained Darja and something resembling an armoury. Ral still didn’t know where they had got all their equipment, but there sure was a lot of it.

Cyrus was helping Vraska lie down without putting pressure on her stomach. As soon as she was down and covered in blankets, Ral announced his arrival with a quick

“Cyrus?”

The man jumped.

“Yes Guildmaster Zarek?”

Even the gorgons didn’t call him that anymore.

“Can we have a quick word in the other room? Tomik wants your help with something.”

Cyrus frowned in confusion. Before he could object, Ral decided to take the decision out of his hands.

“Vraska, you don’t mind if we borrow him for a bit, do you? Promise we won’t be long.”

“Don’t mind,” Vraska said sleepily, “Go help them Cyrus, I’ll be fine.”

“Yes my Queen.”

He didn’t look entirely pleased as he followed Ral back into the main room, even less so as Ral led him towards the tank. However, he was honour bound to follow Vraska’s orders, at least if he wanted to keep up his disguise. So he followed Ral around the tank, towards were Tomik waited with a patient smile.

“Oh, Cyrus,” said Tomik, “How nice of you to join us.”

His voice was light and pleasant, as if he enjoyed nothing more than seeing the man.

Ral led him past the bit of wall that Tomik had been marking earlier. In the darkness, it was impossible to see any symbols left there, not that Tomik was sloppy enough to let them show. As soon as Ral was clear of the circle, Tomik clapped his hands together. At once, brilliant rays of golden light leapt up about Cyrus, phantasmal chains springing forth from the wall, binding him about the arms, legs and torso. They pulled him back flat upon the metal, arms spread-eagled as if he was about to be tortured on a rack. Another golden chain looped about his neck, meaning he couldn’t even move his head, he was forced to stare, in horror, directly at Tomik. As the Verity Circle burst into light upon the floor, Ral couldn’t help but stare himself. He’d been expecting some kind of suspension field, or maybe a circle of wards. But no, Tomik had restrained the man so entirely, the light magic had started to burn through his clothing.

“Time to drop the illusion,” said Tomik, his voice as delighted as when he’d greeted Cyrus. The happy tone combined with the severity of the bonds was more than a little creepy.

“We’ve had enough of the act,” Tomik continued, “So do us the pleasure and drop it. Won’t you, Jace Beleren?”

‘Cyrus’ slumped in his chains. For a moment his features blurred, before the image slid, like a sheet down a wall, cascading about his feet until nothing remained but the trembling man underneath.

Jace Beleren looked like shit. Or at least Ral thought so. His opinions of the man had never been high, but the ex-Guildpact was looking particularly wretched. For one, his outfit hadn’t been an illusion. His blue robes were lost and now he wore a rough tunic and leggings underneath his black leathers. Without the trappings of a mage, he looked a lot smaller, certainly a lot shorter than the men now pinning him to a wall. His hair had grown out long enough to put into a tufty ponytail. A liberal blanket of stubble covered his chin, and he had a scar across his neck, as if someone had tried to slit it and failed miserably. Yet no matter how terrible he looked, Ral couldn’t stop the rage that suddenly welled up inside of him. So, the bastard had been here all this time? He wasn’t around when Ravnica needed him and when it had all gone to hell, he wouldn’t leave? He’d failed Ravnica as its Guildpact. He’d failed to come up with a plan that worked on Bolas. He’d failed to stop anything that had happened. And on top of all that he’d lied to Vraska, leaving her blind and ignorant to his existence beside her. Letting her falsely believe he was fine whilst he risked his life with everyone else! On that topic, had he just let her get blinded in the first place?! Where was he when that happened? Why didn’t he counter Bolas’s spell? Why didn’t he stop Vraska trying in the first place?!

“You have a lot of explaining to do Beleren,” Ral growled at him.

Jace stared at him with wide blue eyes

“I-I can explain,” he managed.

“Can you?” Tomik replied, stepping forward. His cheery tone remained as the hairs on the back of Ral’s neck suddenly prickled. Something was about to happen. Tomik was up to something and he knew better than to get in his way.

“Can you really?” Tomik repeated, stepping closer to the trapped ex-Guildpact.

“Can you _possibly_ explain all this?” Tomik took another step forward. He was breathing hard, but it didn’t look like he was about to cough. Ral held his breath as Jace opened his mouth to try to do just that.

**WHAM.**

Tomik’s fist collided solidly with his captive’s face. Jace let out a cry of pain, his head banging painfully against the metal wall behind him. Ral’s mouth fell open in shock as Tomik readied himself for another blow.

“What are you-?”

**WHAM.**

Right in the other eye. Jace let out a strangled yell. He had tried to escape the second punch by moving his head, however the magical chains had bit into his neck, leaving scorched gashes in the skin. Tomik nursed his hand as if punching Jace had hurt him as much it had hurt Jace. However his face was now contorted in a deep scowl as he stepped into the Verity Circle, right up to the dazed man, who was now looking at him in utmost terror.

“You absolute bastard,” Tomik hissed at him, “You coward! You-you lying twisted soul-crushing dream-stealing, good for nothing _snake_!”

Ral considering restraining him, but then thought better of it. He’d never seen Tomik so utterly livid before. As much as he enjoyed seeing Jace Beleren get punched in the face, he had never seen his fiancé driven so quickly to violence. Tomik must be absolutely pissed and he was not getting in his way.

“_She loves you_,” Tomik spat his tone dripping with malice, “She loves you more than anything in all the worlds and you’ve been _lying_ to her all this time.”

Jace opened his mouth to speak but Tomik didn’t let him.

“When did you go?” he demanded, “When did you abandon her? Was she ill at the time? Was she blind? Was she_ dying_?”

He didn’t wait for an answer.

“Did you know she was dying when you made those promises? Did you know she would be wasting away here, clinging onto any source of comfort she could?!”

He looked like he was going to punch him again. His knuckles were rather red, but his fist trembled, itching for more.

“As she lost everything, her one source of comfort was the fact you were far away, safe, happy, protected from all of _this_! She took your promises, she took them as hope in this fucking awful world and what are they really? What has she put all her hopes and dreams upon? What has she got left? _Lies_! False promises and_ lies_!”

He slammed his hand against the metal wall

“She’s so happy that you’re safe, but where are you really? Right in the middle of the danger with everyone else! Betraying your promise! Betraying her trust!”

He took a moment to breathe deeply, blood staining his lips as he panted for breath.

“You listen to me Jace Beleren,” Tomik growled, “You _both_ listen to me!”

Ral jumped as Tomik suddenly addressed him too.

“I know Vraska is a planeswalker like you two, but right now, she’s as bound to this world as I am. She’s not going anywhere. From what I’ve heard, she never left it much anyway.”

Ral was beginning to understand why he was so pissed, but he was not going to interrupt.

“I want you both to consider, for one moment, what it’s like to be us,” Tomik continued, “We don’t have amazing powers that can send us off to magical new lands. We can’t go and start new lives elsewhere. This world is what we’ve got and this world has gone to hell! We are stuck in this pit and we are going to die here!”

He took another deep breath before continuing:

“This world is dead. Ravnica is dead! Our homes, our families, our way of living, it’s all dead! Everywhere, everyone, everything, it’s all dead, gone, and we have just have to accept that and keep on surviving! There isn’t a Plan B! There isn’t an out! We dig through dead bodies to look at the wreckage of our former lives. We hunt vermin to eat and sing the praises of instant coffee. This is our lives. We don’t get to _leave_!”

He withdrew his hand from the wall and balled it up in the sleeves of his robes.

“So when we get hope. When we get something to feel happy about. We cling onto it like we’ve clung to nothing before. The knowledge that a loved one is whole and happy… that keeps us going. That gives us a reason to live. If Ral wasn’t here?”

He turned to look at Ral.

“If you were dead, I would be too. Even if the armies didn’t get me, I would have run myself through with that borrowed sword. This life isn’t worth living without you.”

Ral didn’t know whether to feel shocked, flattered or appalled. He opted to gawp wordlessly as Tomik rounded back on Jace.

“So tell me genius,” he demanded, “What’s getting Vraska through this? She has weeks left to live. Her body is slowly shutting itself down. Where is her strength coming from? Why hasn’t she run herself through yet?”

At last, he waited for Jace to speak. Jace’s expression shifted from fear to guilt in a matter of moments. Yet still, he said nothing. His head hung, face mostly obscured by his fringe.

“Well?” Tomik insisted, “Answer me!”

Ral was reminded in that moment that Tomik had once been aristocracy. He looked every bit the imperious overlord as he looked down on the shamed and guilty man in his chains. Ral tried to focus on the terribleness of his words and not the fact that this authority looked very attractive on him.

_“Answer me!_”

“H-Hope,” Jace stammered, sounding as wretched as he looked, “Hope that-that I’m living a better life. She’s happy if-if she thinks I’m happy.”

“And what is that hope based on?” Tomik continued.

“Lies,” Jace replied.

“And if, for instance, you went outside and got skewered by some rampaging beast, what would happen?”

“I-I would be dead, my magic would drop and-and everyone would know it was me. She’d find out and…”

“Lose the fucking will to live,” Tomik finished, “If Ral did this to me, I would never forgive him. Luckily for you, Vraska might be more forgiving than I am. So why don’t you go in there and tell her who you are _right now_.”

Jace made a reluctant noise in the back of his throat.

“And if you don’t,” Tomik continued, “We will. First thing tomorrow morning. Understand?”

Jace nodded the best he could whilst still chained about the neck.

Tomik took a step back out of the circle and clapped his hands once more. The chains vanished. The circle dropped.

“Go,” he ordered, “Now.”

Jace sprinted back towards the other room, leaving silence in his wake. Ral wanted to follow, to find out how that confession went, but was too busy standing in awe. He stood , mouth open, trying to work out what the hell he was supposed to even say after something like that. If he had died, Tomik would have followed him to the grave? He gave Tomik a reason to live? Those weren’t facts you could just move on from easily. It was almost impossible to take his mind off them. How was he supposed to reply to that? He’d never even considered abandoning Tomik but he felt the need to reassure him all the same. Tomik was his reason, his entire purpose. Ravnica wouldn’t be Ravnica without him. Home wouldn’t be home. Tomik was the reason he worked so tirelessly to make this metal box a house. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do to make Tomik’s life even a little better.

He stepped forward. Tomik looked at him, frown fading into a determined look.

“I did the right thing,” he stated, more to himself than to Ral, but he couldn’t help but nod in agreement.

“That was,” Ral tried, “That-that was amazing.”

Tomik smiled and flushed a little. He crossed over to Ral and put his arms round him.

“You’re amazing. Having you here is amazing,” he replied, “Cuddling in bed right now would also be utterly amazing.”

“Well, I can certainly make that happen.”

Tomik let out a little yelp as Ral scooped him up off his feet. However, once he was settled he merely grinned and kissed Ral on the cheek. Once they were inside their tank, cut off from the rest of the world, they rearranged themselves into a snuggling position amidst the blankets. If there was a confession going on next door, they couldn’t hear it. If there wasn’t, well...

Tomorrow would be very interesting either way.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teamwork and a few unexpected visits provide Tomik and Ral with the wedding they've been dreaming of.

“My hand hurts,” Tomik whined into Ral’s shoulder. Ral wasn’t entirely sure what time it was, but he’d been woken by a frighteningly loud bout of coughing and the sounds of Tomik running for the sink. The fact that he was complaining about his hand, and not whatever his lung was doing, meant Tomik had accepted these little interruptions to their day as an inevitability. There was nothing he could do to stop them, and thus they weren’t worth the energy to complain about. Ral let out a groan of his own. He hated inevitabilities, but he was supposed to be strong. Strong for Tomik. Strong for whatever time they had left. So he wouldn’t complain either.

“Let’s see,” he murmured, taking Tomik’s hurting hand gently with his own. There was indeed a line of bruising across his knuckles. Ral made sure to kiss every one better, making Tomik flush and squirm under such affection.

“Did you punch someone and manage to hurt yourself?” Ral questioned, as Tomik entwined their fingers, snuggling closer to him in the blanket pile. Tomik pouted, clearly hearing the grin in Ral’s tone.

“I wasn’t made for fighting,” he protested, “My hands are for pens not punches.”

“And for kissing,” Ral insisted, “On bended knee. In reverence to the mighty and gracious Mr Vrona.”

Tomik stuck his tongue out at him in petulant denial. Ral pretended not to note how bloodstained it was.

“Well, if that’s what they’re for. You do the punching next time,” Tomik replied, “With your gauntlets on. ”

“That would have knocked him out,” Ral stated, though it wasn’t an objection.

Tomik yawned loudly before admitting:

“That would have been a bit counterproductive.”

On the subject of that little interrogation, Ral couldn’t help but wonder how last night’s confession had gone. Or if Jace had tried to weasel his way out of the whole thing. There was really only one way to find out, but that involved leaving their nest and venturing into the chilly outdoors. He wasn’t sure what the time was, but he couldn’t hear anyone up and ready for breakfast. It must be early.

“You both can do trips now,” Tomik pointed out. His eyes had closed but his mind was clearly working too fast for him to drift off.

“You and Beleren. To get us the stuff we need.”

“Yeah,”Ral agreed, “Will definitely rope him into that. If Vraska or her entourage haven’t done away with him.”

“They won’t,” Tomik replied, “He’s going to get away with it. Vraska will forgive him instantly.”

“Vraska can’t planeswalk anymore?” Ral asked. Tomik had spent more time with her over the course of the Golgari party’s residence that he had. Both he and the ex-Queen had been stuck indoors with each other’s company to pass the time.

“She reckons she physically could,” Tomik explained, “But, it would exhaust her to the point she would lose consciousness with no idea if she’d wake up. And if she did, she would also be blind and weak on an unfamiliar world. Going to another plane feels too much like suicide for her to consider it.”

That was fair. It explained why Tomik considered them both planebound residents. Well, he had Jace now to help him fetch stuff from across the multiverse. First things first, they would be getting all the accessories necessary for a wedding. He had already decided they should marry sooner rather than later. The whole concept of actually tying the knot still seemed fantastical. But he wanted it, and Tomik wanted it, and who knew how much time they had left together? As soon as Jace and Vraska had got whatever emotional turmoil they were in over, he was going to approach them about his ideas for a wedding ceremony. It would be simple. Given their situation, it would be laughable compared to whatever big cathedral ceremony Tomik had probably expected his marriage to take place in. He’d said he wanted to be a Zarek though. Not a Vrona who needed a multi-million zino parade to mark his festivities. Well, this Zarek was, or had been, the Guildmaster of the Izzet League. What was a more fitting venue therefore than Nivix itself? That was how Ral was justifying it anyway. If he’d had his way, they’d hold the ceremony at the topmost point in the Aerie, letting all of Ravnica see their joy. In his dream wedding there were fireworks, so many fireworks that the dismal clouds would be lost in a haze of bright colourful fog. He’d create his own stars and launch them into the sky, so Tomik could see the sky as it ought to be. Then there’d be drinks and laughter, and plenty of food. Maybe they could achieve some of those things. Probably not the fireworks though.

When hunger finally beat their need to keep cuddling, he and Tomik left the privacy of their tank and entered the workshop at large. There was only one person outside, huddled beside a kitchen worktop, wrapped up in a ratty grey blanket. Ral glanced at Tomik before they walked over to where Emile sat, chopping up mushroom with a mizzium blade and a look of great concentration.

“Are you all right?” Tomik asked the gorgon. Emile appeared to be nodding off over his cutting board, which was surely a recipe for disaster. At being addressed, the gorgon sat straight upwards, hair curling tight towards his scalp, as if defensive about being caught dozing.

“I’m-I’m fine,” he managed, pushing a piece of mushroom at Tomik, who gratefully took it and swallowed it whole.

“Just… a long night is all,” Emile continued. He glanced up at the two men in front of him, reminding Ral once again that all the gorgons, bar Vraska, looked like teenagers, or at least far too young to endure everything they had.

“How long has Cyrus been the Guildpact?” he asked them. Ral glanced at Tomik. They both sat down.

“Always, I believe,” said Tomik, “I don’t think there ever was a Cyrus really.”

“Ah,” Emile stated simply. It was then that Ral remembered that the medic’s tent was next to Vraska’s. If any particularly emotional outbursts had happened, they would likely have woken him up.

“Did they keep you up last night?” asked Tomik, clearly following the same train of thought as Ral’s.

“A little,” Emile confessed, “But I spent a lot of the night on the roof, trying to make an irrigation system out of the piping Mia found the other day. For-for my farm on the roof. Got it all set up, but the seals between the pipe and the water butt, they’re not tight enough and-and we don’t have that much rubber.”

“Irrigation system?” Ral repeated. Tomik smiled softly beside him in a rather knowing fashion.

“Yes, to water all the plants up there,” Emile continued, “I-I hope I haven’t taken up too much space. But, I didn’t think everyone wanted to live off mushrooms forever so-so I planted some vegetables in the extra troughs. I can take it down if you-”

He looked scared that he’d done something terribly wrong.

“No, that’s not what he meant,” Tomik added, “Ral likes rigging together new machines. Like the meat-drier.”

He pointed at it.

“Yes, I’m not mad,” Ral continued, “Just intrigued really. Do you want to show me once everyone’s up? Maybe I can help you with the sealing.”

Emile nodded.

“I-I would appreciate that Mr Zarek.”

Being addressed so formally reminded Ral of what he really wanted to ask the gorgon about.

“You can encourage stuff to grow right?” he asked, “Can you do flowers?”

Emile cocked his head a little to one side, looking a little confused at his question.

“I can do most fungal and plant life Mr Zarek,” he said, “I don’t have much experience with flowers. There aren’t many native flowering species in the Undercity. But yes, if you found a plant you wanted to grow, I could make you some flowers.”

His confusion was understandable.

“We’re getting married,” Ral elaborated, “It might seem foolish but we’d like flowers.”

Emile’s eyes lit up, his entire demeanour becoming brighter, more energetic as he glanced between their smiles.

“Of course!” he exclaimed, “I-I would be honoured to grow you some wedding flowers. I don’t know what they use up here but-but, I’ll join Mia, Eliza and Darja on a scavenging trip later, maybe I can find some flowering plants!”

“Thank you. Just don’t take unnecessary risks,” said Tomik, “If in doubt, there’s always the apple tree.”

Emile beamed.

“I’ll do my best Mr Vrona!” He gathered his things up as if he was going to set off there and then, before remembering where he was and the fact that no one else seemed to be up yet.

It was at least half an hour before they saw anyone else, and when they did, it came with the clatter of Eliza throwing the door to their workshop open. She was half-dressed, empty water pitcher in one hand, her tunic mostly unfastened and dangling off one shoulder.

“Emile! Emile!” she exclaimed, “Sister Vraska won’t wake up!”

Her twin bolted to his feet.

“What?”

“No time! Come!”

Emile sprinted into the adjacent workshop, Ral and Tomik following swiftly behind. The entrance to the largest tent was wide open. Mia was at the entrance, crouched on the floor and looking frightened, but otherwise seemingly useless to what was going on inside. Jace, as himself this time, was crouching amidst the scattering of blankets that made up Vraska’s bed, with her head propped up in his lap. His eyes were glowing faintly blue, his hand on her forehead as the trio approached.

“She’s alive just exhausted,” he said, without even looking at them. Emile ignored him entirely, hurrying up to Vraska, a tendril-like green light already extending from his palms. Tomik took hold of Ral’s arm as the couple merely watched, neither of them able to give any sort of medical insight except for the fact that Vraska looked unearthly pale. She looked like she was sleeping, or she would if she had eyelids. Her face was at peace, no movement to her body except for the faint rise and fall of her chest. The usual grey pallor to her cheeks had turned almost corpse-like. Some of the musculature of her arms had visibly wasted away. She looked frail, and Ral didn’t need to ask to know she’d hate that descriptor. He couldn’t help but think of how Tomik looked after a fresh bout of coughing up his own lung.

“He’s right,” said Emile, after he’d used whatever magic he had to inspect her head and torso.

“Nothing we didn’t already know about,” he continued, “But… last night took too much out of her.”

He shot a look at Jace that clearly implied ‘you did this’.

“She needs to rest, she needs water, she needs to try and keep something down. You are going to look after her whilst we scavenge or until she comes around.”

Emile glanced up at his sister and then the other assembled onlookers.

“It’s fine,” he stated, “She’s-she’s just tired from going through so much emotional distress last night. I will check back on her and-and whilst we go out, well, Mr Guildpact can do his original job in looking after her.”

There were nods from the other assembled Golgari. Whilst they didn’t seem openly hostile towards Jace, it was clear the mood wasn’t friendly. Ral decided to leave them to it. He was thankful that this scare hadn’t been as terrible as it could have been, but it had reminded him how pressing time was becoming for them. From the look on Eliza’s face, she was genuinely scared that this might be her Queen’s final moments. As if any slight change in her health might be the end. That was how he felt about Tomik. Their wedding needed to happen sooner rather than later. Every day that passed, Tomik was a little slower, a little shorter of breath. Ral couldn’t allow his own dawdling to ruin this chance at happiness.

When the scavenging party went out, Tomik went for a nap in their tank. He claimed that he just needed a few moments to rest up before he came and helped Ral with fitting shelvesl for their new pantry space. A few moments turned into a five hour long nap, in which Ral not only fit the shelves, but went to the roof to view Emile’s irrigation system. The gorgon clearly knew what he was doing and Ral wasn’t going to touch another man’s invention without permission. This was however a level of design and engineering he wouldn’t expect to come out of the Golgari, it was probably wasted there. Under other circumstances, maybe the gorgon would have thrived in the League. Too late for that now though. Ral checked on Tomik’s cages, clambering up a large pile of rubble to collect a few pigeons. It was as he clambered back through the brickwork, that he caught his gauntlet on something metallic. Frowning, he pushed aside a few bricks to reveal a metal work frame, still with the traces of wire crisscrossing its arch. It had no doubt been a lighting rig, the sort that could be wheeled back and forth about a vehicle, an arch bearing torches that could be swivelled as required. Arches… weddings had arches where the ceremonies took place. Ral hadn’t admittedly been to a lot of weddings, but if he could bend this frame back into shape, add some candles, maybe make something pretty out of wire. It could work.

Tomik woke up about lunchtime, ate, arranged a few things on their new shelves, before needing to sit down. Ral fetched him his writing things and let him continue to work on his written account of the war. With the Golgari party here, and half of them being so young, there was some hope that maybe Tomik’s record would come in handy. Perhaps the gorgons could carry it on with them, or pass it onto whoever next found their little settlement in Nivix. Most importantly though, it was something for Tomik to do, there to keep his mind occupied and his hands busy so he didn’t dwell on what he wasn’t able to achieve. Whilst he wrote, Ral bent his new arch into shape, removing any sharp edges and then delving into their candle supply – two large boxes he’d brought back from another plane. Once he had the courage to leave Tomik alone for a bit, he’d certainly get more. There was something very elegant about sleek white pillar candles. If they got lots of them, they could create a very beautiful scene in the dark workshop. Also hopefully, they would give Tomik a little bit of the cathedral ceremony he’d been denied.

Vraska woke up shortly before the scavenging party got back. Jace came and went, getting food and water for her, until finally Ral’s curiosity got the better of him. He helped Tomik into the next workshop over and they went and joined the pair of planeswalkers in their tent.

“How are you feeling?” Tomik asked, as soon as he was settled down, crosslegged on a sandbag.

“Annoyed,” Vraska’s answer was blunt in its honesty, “Shaky. Like my legs won’t do what I want them to. It’s…infuriating.”

“There’s nothing to be ashamed about,” Jace insisted. She had a very tight grip on one of his arms, as if worried that he might disappear all over again. Her only response to him was to rest her head on his shoulder, which he took without complaint.

“I’m guessing you two stayed up late talking?” Ral suggested. He had waited long enough to know how this confession had gone.

“Yes,” said Jace, “I-I apologised, for everything.”

Their attention moved to Vraska. She seemed to sense this even if she couldn’t see their heads turning.

“And I forgave him,” she said, “Did you expect otherwise?”

“Not really,” said Tomik, “Were you at least a little disappointed?”

“Disappointed, no,” Vraska replied, “Sad, yes. We could have had so much more time together. I guess we did have that time, but, having a stranger being there for you is entirely different to having the man who means everything.”

Jace had the sense to look ashamed now. He kissed her on the cheek and she smiled, reaching with one hand to feel for his face. He moved slightly to help her, allowing her to run one clawed finger through his stubble.

“But in a way, I’m happier,” she said, “Happy that I’ll get to spend my last few weeks with you. In a way, it’s closure. I’ll know what happened to you and you’ll know what happened to me. And you can move on.”

“I’m not moving on,” Jace insisted, “The reason I came back is because I _couldn’t_ move on. Not from you, not from Ravnica. This plane is my home, and, well, what’s worth it out there if it’s not you?”

Ral felt like Jace was being a copycat and spouting his own words instead of coming up with something original. However, he knew that was stupid. Jace had no idea of what he’d said to Tomik. He merely shared the same sentiments in his own relationship. At least Ral had the moral high ground of not pretending to be someone else for several months. 

“You’ll leave though, won’t you?” said Vraska, “Once I’m gone. Even if you want to support everyone here, well, they haven’t done a very good job at hiding their discontent.”

Ral took this as a sign he was right about the gorgons. It was likely out of respect for their Queen that they hadn’t rounded on Jace yet.

“Let’s…I’ll figure that out when the time comes,” said Jace, looking as uncomfortable as he sounded, “For now, let’s make the most of what time we have.”

Vraska nodded and they exchanged another chaste kiss.

“Talking of making the most of it,” Tomik began, “This may seem a little abrupt or obtuse, considering of all that’s just happened between the two of you. But… Vraska, your Majesty and Guildmaster, we would be honoured if you’d help us with something.”

His formality had clearly piqued her interest.

“What is it?” she asked.

“We’re getting married,” Ral stated simply.

“And we’d like you to conduct the ceremony for us,” Tomik continued, “You may not be our Guildmasters, but you are _a_ Guildmaster. Which means you are the best authority we have for the occasion.”

They seemed to all be ignoring the fact they had the ex-Guildpact in their midst.

Vraska smiled.

“So that’s why Emile is talking excitedly about flowers,” she replied, “Of course, I would be happy to assist. I have never attended a wedding, so I would appreciate any instruction on what to say. However, I recommend talking to Eliza, her father was the Head of Hospitality for the Golgari Court, she probably has wedding experience, if you’d like someone to help you decorate, or set up.”

Tomik nodded.

“When are you getting married?” Jace asked.

“As soon as we have everything we need,” Ral replied, “Which means you and I are going on a few trips to get wedding stuff.”

Jace frowned.

“Where exactly?”

Ral didn’t know where exactly. Over the next two weeks, he took Jace to various worlds he knew. Worlds where he could either barter what goods they brought with them, or straight up steal from the vendors there. Jace mentioned Kaladesh, suggesting that rather than stealing, he could ask some of the people he knew there for help. It seemed like a good plan at first. Ral lost himself in a maze of new inventions, swapping tips and mizzium tools for bits and pieces at the market. He found plenty of beautiful things as he wandered about. His first priority was a robe for Tomik, he hadn’t really considered what he might wear for the occasion, but it occurred to him that maybe he could find a smarter shirt here at least. They wandered over to a large official looking building, surrounded by thopters far more beautiful than any that had patrolled Ravnica’s skies. It was on the steps outside that they had the mixed fortune of running into a familiar face. Whilst Chandra Nalaar seemed delighted to see Jace was alive, her expression was extremely conflicted. She had left Ravnica, fleeing after all seemed lost. Now, she seemed to be living very comfortably in her mother’s house, her mother who happened to be a government official here. Ral wasn’t sure how he felt about that. She had no real obligation to Ravnica. However, it was a stark constrast to everything they’d been through over the last year.

Chandra and Pia Nalaar loaded them up with supplies as soon as they heard their story. Ral was inundated with so many new tools he had no idea where he was going to put them. Maybe he could give a set to Emile, but he was going to have to build a new set of shelves at least. They were given all manner of garments, from silk shawls and scarves to new tunics and breeches, all cushioning bits of tableware, glasses, bowls, candle holders... Jace was presented with a mountain of blankets and pillows, before being given a pouch of Kaladeshi currency and told to go get a haircut and a shave. By the time they returned back to Ravnica, they were both well-groomed, well-fed and carrying a mountain of homeware on their backs.

The gifts caused much celebration around the workshop. Eliza took everything that could be deemed a decoration out of their packs, and started filling the main workshop with colour. Mia claimed a new tunic and ran off to get changed in her tent, as Ral and Darja put anything metallic or sharp to one side so they could unwrap all the crockery. But that wasn’t every surprise they got that night. Emile, who had been checking on his roof garden when they’d returned, came clambering back down the hatch with a cry of:

“There’s someone outside! There’s someone Azorius outside!”

Ral let Darja deal with the pointy objects and sprinted towards the door. There was only one Azorius person who knew where there were, and truly only one he had the patience to talk to in the entire guild. He opened one of the entrance doors, kicking aside piping, and sure enough there she was.

“You have good timing,” Ral told Lavinia.

She managed a grimace. Some of her teeth were broken, but she was still as fighting fit as ever. 

“Do you still have coffee?” she asked.

“Plenty.” Ral beckoned her to follow him deeper into Nivix. He was so relieved that she was alive, he didn’t pause to consider that Lavinia might have mixed views about seeing who else was living with them. In fact it wasn’t until they were in the workshop, and there were excitable Golgari everywhere, that he stopped to consider it at all.

“Things have developed,” he managed, as everyone stopped to stare at the new arrival.

“Remember that Golgari party you told us about?” Ral continued, “Well, they found us.”

Lavinia stared at the three teenage gorgons, who were neatly folding clothing, to Darja, who was arranging blades, and then to the back of Vraska, who was helping Tomik drive a spit through what had once been a calf.

Ral cleared his throat. Tomik finally turned round, as did Vraska. The Queen wasn’t wearing her veil, just a blindfold-like strip over her eyes. Ral immediately tensed. Desperation had given away his anger, but what about Lavinia’s?

“Everyone,” he announced, wondering if this was a good idea, “This is Lavinia, captain, then Guildmaster, of the Azorius. Lavinia, this is the Golgari group, they live with us now. The twins are Emile and Eliza, there’s Mia, Darja, and of course Vraska.”

Lavinia surveyed the assorted Golgari, her eyes lingering on Vraska a little longer than the others. There was a moment of awkward silence in which Ral realised that Jace wasn’t in the room. There was no point hiding his presence.

“Where’s Jace?” Ral asked the room at large.

“His tent,” Emile supplied, his eyes fixed on Lavinia.

“The Guildpact is here?” she asked, ignoring the stares completely.

“Yes,” Ral sighed, “He never really left. It’s…he can explain.”

He led Lavinia over to the door to the other room.

“Largest tent on the right, have fun.”

Whether Lavinia had any particularly un-fun words for Jace or Vraska, she didn’t say them around anyone else. In fact, in return for hot meals, plenty of coffee, and her own blanket pile, she was more than happy to help out around the workshops. Once again, she gave no indication on how long she was going to stay, but during this visit, she clearly felt safe enough to take off her armour. Mia, who was clearly impressed by the ex-captain’s battle scars offered to build a tent for her, which Lavinia accepted, though asked it to be on the opposite side of the workshop to Jace and Vraska’s.

With Lavinia around, Ral didn’t feel so terrible about leaving the plane to fetch supplies. He knew that between Lavinia and Emile, if anything happened to Tomik, they would be on hand to look after him. That didn’t stop him being terrified however, when he came back from another world, to find Emile in their tank, desperately worried. He was explaining to Tomik why he should not be sleeping on his back anymore. There was blood all over their sheets. But Tomik was still gasping for breath, too weak to move off the mess he had made. The gore-flecked pillows swiftly staining crimson even as his chest shuddered, his hands clenched in his robes as if he’d been clawing at his own chest. Emile gave him two slices of mushroom that evening, and he spent most of the night in an almost comatose state, occasionally muttering about laundry and soap. Ral couldn’t leave him over the next few days. He let the others find food and build what they liked. He watched Eliza and Vraska do laundry as he held Tomik’s hands and occasionally passed him a bucket. Emile made Tomik a weird smelling tea that was the colour of an algae-infested pond, but he drank it all the same. Mia and Lavinia went scouting through Nivix with strict instruction from Ral on what not to touch.

Jace disappeared. He went up to the roof and didn’t come down. When Darja went hunting for him, she reported that he was gone. This didn’t concern Ral as much as Tomik, so he put the planeswalker out of his mind in favour of rubbing Tomik’s back, helping him drink his tea, and gently mopping blood off his face. Jace returned just as Ral was getting ready for bed, what looked like a small barrel under one arm and a large canvas sack over one shoulder, as if he’d just gone and robbed a place. When Ral commented this, he merely shrugged:

“You’re not wrong.”

Ral wanted to know where exactly he’d been robbing, especially since he’d been the one saying they couldn’t steal from other planes. However, it was now Ral’s job to make sure Tomik didn’t roll over and accidentally drown in his sleep. Nothing was quite as important as that.

Ral awoke the following day to the smell of baking. He blinked blearily at the side of the tank, not quite sure whether he was still dreaming or not. Pulling on a shirt, he stuck his head out the side to see that, probably Eliza, had rearranged all the chairs and other seat variants they owned into a semblance of aisles. Ral’s arch had been put at the head. He barely recognised it. What had once been a wonky lighting rig was now covered in flowers. White, pinks and creams covered the rusted metal as if it was a garden trellis, each plant rooted in small ceramic pots at its base. Ral didn’t know what half the flowers were, but they reminded him distinctly of Spring, and he was sure nothing as naturally pretty had ever found its way into this workshop before. The chairs were hung with co-ordinating pastels, some tied with scarves, others with shawls or skirts. Sprigs of yet more flowers had been put on every seat for those who would sit there. An old white sheet, cleaned to the best it could be, had been laid down the aisle like a carpet. 

Ral stood there and blinked at it all. Not sure whether this was real or something his imagination had cooked up to mess with him. He stepped down out of the tank and touched the closest office chair. Yes, definitely real. As Tomik emerged behind him, he looked over to the kitchen, where Lavinia and the twins were peering into the furnace that was over there. On an improvised metal tray, two circular sponges were rising. Cake? They had found the ingredients for cake?

“Morning Boss,” said Mia. Ral turned to see the youngest gorgon was carrying an armful of bottles across the room.

“The Guildpact found us some drink! I’ve always wanted to try booze!”

Tomik crossed over to her and silently lifted two of the bottles out of her arms before she dropped them. He stared at the labels, still seemingly unable to speak. Ral let him make his judgement. As an aristocrat, wine was his area, not Ral’s.

“These must have come from deep in someone’s cellar," said Tomik, “These bottles haven’t been on sale for at least a hundred and fifty years. It’s the sort of thing my parents used to collect.”

“So it’s really fancy booze?” Ral asked, unable to resist Mia’s phrasing as it reminded him too much of his teenage self.

“Yes,” Tomik chuckled, “Really fancy booze. Let’s not get started on it until we’ve had the ceremony alright?”

He helped Mia carry it all to the kitchen. In addition to Team Cake, who were still watching their creation in the oven, Jace was chopping vegetables on one of the worktops. He had a small mountain of peeled potatoes and root vegetables beside him.

“Did you go and raid someone’s wine cellar?” Ral asked him, as Tomik helped Mia put all the bottles down.

“Among other places, yes,” Jace replied, “From what I know of weddings, there ought to be plenty to drink. I made a few stops through the mansion precinct, looking for secrets that hadn’t already been looted.”

He flicked a bit of carrot peel out of his fringe.

“Where else did you end up?” Ral asked. Jace smiled.

“Go and take a look in our tent, just keep it as a surprise ok?”

Intrigued, Ral set off at once. He went into the adjacent workshop where he found Vraska sitting cross-legged at the foot of their tent. She, like the rest of her retinue, had changed into a new set of clothing. Compared to their usual dark attire, the Golgari party were a riot of colour, perhaps specially for today. Ral hadn't exactly planned for the wedding to be today, but sooner was certainly better than later.

Vraska looked up as she heard him coming.

“It’s me,” Ral said, “Jace said you had a surprise in your tent for Tomik?”

She nodded, getting shakily to her feet with a noticeable wince.

“For both of you, I believe,” she said, “Though, moreso for Tomik.”

She stepped back to allow him inside. Jace and Vraska’s tent was still very simple compared to the painted ones next door. Their bed was a pile of sandbags covered in blankets and they had a trolley on which they had piled all their armour. On the other side of the tent however, was a pile of stuff that Ral was certain hadn’t been there until last night. First and foremost, there was a rectangular framed picture. The glass was a little cracked but the painting had miraculously survived whatever abuse it had gone through. Ral recognised it at once. It was an absolutely awful picture Tomik had been given as a gift by his parents. They put it in their hallway in the hopes that the saccharine wide-eyed kittens would scare off any cold callers with their stares. He’d never been so glad to see those terrible cats in his life. Almost as wide-eyed as the felines, he started to dig through the pile of trinkets, letting out little gasps as he found familiar possession after familiar possession. His copy of “Advanced Electro-engineering Volume Five”! – a relic from his studies when he’d joined the Izzet. That textbook had been worth its weight in gold but he’d drawn too many crude pictures in it to resell it. That was worth showing Tomik for a laugh. And a piece of his old scorch armour! Gods that probably didn’t fit now, but it wasn’t even bent or anything! Was that the soap dish Tomik brought back from District Three? The one shaped like a swan? It was! _Fuck_, he didn’t expect to see any of this again.

“He found our flat,” he gasped, as Vraska sat patiently on her own bed.

“What was left of it,” Vraska replied, “Or so I’ve been told. He also went to the Vrona Estate.”

“He-“ Ral cast his gaze about for what Jace might have brought back from Tomik’s family home. He wasn’t aware that Jace knew about Tomik’s family, but then again, it wouldn’t be too hard for him to pluck those thoughts straight out of Tomik’s head. The idea that Jace had been looking, even if it only was at Tomik’s surface thoughts, annoyed him. However, that was swiftly stifled by what exactly Jace had found. Perched on top of the hideous cat painting was a red velvet-covered box. Not recognising it as anything that had once been in their flat, Ral opened it up. Inside, were three items of jewellery, mismatched but each bearing the family crest Tomik once wore twenty four seven. There were two bangle-like bracelets, heavy and undoubtedly made of gold. Each was set with small black and white gemstones, the crest engracvd into the outside of the band, and some kind of motto in old Ravnican engraved onto the inside. The bangles were clearly a matching pair, but the pendant was even more fantastical. It was excessively heavy, a glittering white diamond stood framed in white gold, the Vrona crest proudly mounted above its splendour, completed with silver filigree. This was the sort of gaudiness you’d expect from Orzhov nobility, but it was the sort of gaudiness Tomik had once called home.

“I believe that’s where he found the wine too,” Vraska added, “And some tableware.”

Ral merely nodded.

Well, maybe he wouldn’t be quite so angry with Jace after this. He had no idea how far the Vrona Estate was from here, but he was sure Jace had crossed most of the district to go from there, to their flat and back to Nivix. It would certainly go a long way towards getting Tomik to forgive him, that was for sure.

He wondered how he was going to keep it a secret as he returned to the other workshop – just in time to see Tomik re-emerge from their tank. Ral stopped in his tracks as he watched Emile bound over to Tomik and present him with a flower crown so packed with blooms it looked like Spring had taken form in a single wreath. Tomik bent down so Emile could place it carefully on his head. Ral couldn’t help himself, he held his breath as Tomik exchanged a few whispers with Emile, before straightening up and turning to face him.

Tomik looked divine.

Ral felt colour rise to his cheeks as Tomik smiled at him, a vision in gold and pastels. His shimmering white robe made him look like something ethereal, a beautiful fae being come to bewitch the minds of mortals. It flowed behind him in a delicate flower-strewn train, the shape of his legs just visible as he took a few steps towards Ral, looking every bit as elegant as the aristocrat he was. Perhaps more. Ral couldn’t find the right words to describe how handsome his love was right now. His glasses and the golden embroidery at his sleeves and hem, sparkled in the candlelight now filling the workshop. His neatly combed hair was full of flowers, his joyful expression crowned with roses, apple-blossom, and some sort of smaller white flower Ral couldn’t name. 

“I think someone should be getting changed,” Tomik commented, smile widening at Ral’s awestruck silence, “It’s all in the tank.”

He patted Ral on the shoulder before disappearing towards the bathrooms, perhaps to check on his crown.

Tomik wasn’t the only one who ended up with hair full of nature. As soon as Ral changed into his sleek new blue tunic, Emile ambushed him outside the tank with yet another flower crown. Ral had admittedly wondered whether he was going to get one and he wasn’t disappointed.

“The flowers look great,” he told Emile, “Thank you.”

The gorgon smiled in pride.

“Thank you too Mr Zarek! I did my best!”

Unable to contain his excitement, Emile hurried across the room towards the sounds of people talking. Ral turned to see what was going on and was presented with what looked like a large dining table. It was in fact multiple tables, trolleys and workbenches put together, but with one huge tablecloth over the top, it looked fit for a feast. Jace was carefully arranging plates and cutlery, some very ornate serving platters had been placed ready in the kitchen to bear the roast beef and vegetables which now took pride of place in the oven. The candlesticks on the table looked far too ornate for anything but the Vrona Estate, as did the serving dishes. There were two large glass jugs full of yet more flowers and a collection of cups, mugs and beakers had been laid out for toasts.

When Tomik reappeared from the bathroom, he was carefully dabbing at his lips with a handkerchief but looked otherwise fine. He joined Ral in watching the last of the preparations, finally signally for Jace to go get Vraska as everyone came to a point at which they could start. Too exhausted to help move everything around, Vraska had been resting so she could complete their ceremony. The rate at which she tired was getting alarming, but Ral was grateful she had saved her energy for this.

An altar had been fastened out of another trolley with a piece of wood on the top, all covered by an ornate tablecloth, embroidered with a picture of angels. The surface had been decorated with a fancy gold bowl, yet more candlesticks, and another jug full of flowers. Vraska stood behind the makeshift altar wearing a glittering gold and cream shawl over her tunic, a sprig of apple blossom pinned at the shoulder. Ral was aware that in weddings you tended to have a best man, or some witnesses, or some parents with you as you stood at the front. However, he wasn’t having Jace as his best man, and Emile was ring-bearer, so he’d go without. Eliza was going to be Tomik’s bridesmaid, mainly to thank her for all the effort she’d put into decorating the entire workshop. In addition to the candles, she’d used whatever spare fabric she could find to make streamers, as well as painting some glass jars so once a candle was placed inside, they glowed all sorts of pleasing colours.

Ral was also aware that grooms to be were meant to be nervous at this stage in their lives. He simply wasn’t. There were so many things he could be worried about right now, that this didn’t even register as something he needed to be concerned about. He watched as the last few preparations were made in the kitchen before everyone took their seats. All lights except the candles were extinguished, the furnace door was closed, and the faint sounds of a non-existent bell sounded overhead.

For a moment, Ral felt a bit stupid that they’d constructed a make-believe church.

And then Tomik reappeared.

He’d been hiding behind their tank. Yet as soon as he returned in all his radiance, Ral forgot about their surroundings and focused entirely on the divine form of his fiancé walking up the aisle, accompanied by two small gorgons covered in flowers. He was smiling softly, hands clasped in front of him as he met Ral’s gaze and blushed, somehow nervous despite the fact they’d seen each other only twenty minutes prior. He had donned a gauzy gold capelet around his shoulders, so thin and translucent, it might as well be made of tissue paper. However, it only served to make him all the more handsome as the candlelight danced in his warm brown eyes.

He joined Ral before the altar. Ral’s heart leapt as Emile deposited his ring-bearing cushion on the altar, before stepping back so the grooms could take each other’s hands and turn to stare at their official, who had stepped towards them to begin.

“Welcome,” Vraska stated, “Friends, family, allies. We gather here today to celebrate the bond between these two men, and bring them together in joyous matrimony. You have come here to share in this most special of occasions, and most formal of commitments, between Ral Zarek and Tomik Emanuel Oliver Zoran Sebastin Vrona.”

Ral glanced at Tomik. Why did he have so many middle names?

“And to offer them your love and support in this union, and bear them well into their married life together.”

Ral wondered if Jace was telepathically feeding Vraska this speech as she gave them a flowery definition of marriage and what it meant to the land of Ravnica. She didn’t have any notes and she couldn’t read them if she had. On the other hand, she could be that good at remembering speeches. He would dearly have loved to see her reaction at having to remember all of Tomik’s middle names.

“And most of all,” Vraska concluded, “Marriage is a statement of love through even the most troubling of times. And to know that such heartfelt emotions have survived the test of both years and all that this world has thrown at it, is a clear indication of the strength, of the dedication, going into this matrimony.”

She cleared her throat a little and turned to Ral.

“Do you, Ral Zarek, take this man to be your lawfully wedding husband?”

Ral’s heart leapt but he replied instantly:

“I do.”

Vraska turned to Tomik and now Ral was sure Jace was telling her where to look but didn’t let that bother him.

“And do you, Tomik Emanuel Oliver Zoran Sebastin Vrona, take this man to be your lawfully wedding husband?”

“I do,” Tomik replied softly.

Ral hesitated, did they do the kissing now?

“We’ve come that point in the ceremony,” Vraska proclaimed, “Where you may say your vows to one another. Considering the short notice behind this ceremony, if you do not have such vows prepared, please explain to your partner your commitment to them and your marriage going forwards.”

Ral tried not to look too alarmed. Vows?! He’ was supposed to give a speech? Why hadn’t anyone warned him about this? He’d never been to a wedding, how was he supposed to know what to say? He felt Tomik gently squeeze his hand as he cleared his throat, clearly wishing to go first.

“I, Tomik Emanuel Oliver Zoran Sebastin Vrona, take you, Ral Zarek, to be my husband, my constant friend and partner, and my love. The bond we share has withstood the tides of change. However grand or small they come, we have weathered its waves and stood all the stronger for it. Together, we have built a home in the storm, a sanctuary in a wasteland, and I vow to love and cherish it as any home we may have once had together. I vow to honour and respect you for all that you are, all that you could be, on this plane or the next. For years now, you have had my heart in your hands, and once again I vow that it is yours, freely and unconditionally. I pledge this to you mind, heart and soul. Whatever the future brings, I will stand by you for the rest our lives.”

“I, Ral Zarek,” Ral took a deep breath to show that he definitely wasn’t crying and he definitely wasn’t on the urge of forgetting the ceremony and kissing Tomik there and then. Gods, he just had to improvise this speech and then they’d get to the good part!

“Take you, Tomik Emanuel Oliver Zoran Sebastin Vrona,” he took the names slowly so he didn’t forget any.

“To by my husband, my confidant, my conscience, my best friend and my love. Two lovestruck fools, from rival guilds, with all sorts of nasty politics flying around, it’s the recipe for some sort of highbrow tragedy,” Ral managed, “But we did it. We made it work because you’re just that wonderful and, well, I’m pretty great too.”

There was a ripple of laughter from their onlookers.

“I-I vow to always be there for you, whatever comes our way. To hold your hand in mine and never let go, no matter what this world throws at us. I promise to honour and respect you for all you are, and what we can be together. You have made me a better man, and I promise to always be that man who falls in love with you a little bit more each day. I love you Tomik Vrona. More than anything the multiverse has to offer. I love you and you are all I need.”

Now Tomik looked like he was about to cry. He let out a noise between a laugh and a sob as Vraska gently picked up the pillow with two rings on it. Ral couldn’t remember which plane the wedding bands had come from, but they were gold, three tiny rubies set into in Tomik’s and three miniature pearls in his.

“Repeat after me,” Vraska began, offering Ral the cushion, where he took the ruby ring for Tomik.

“I give you this ring, as a reminder of my love, for today and forever more.”

Ral gently put the ring on Tomik’s finger. Tomik was definitely crying as he repeated.

“I give you this ring as a reminder of my love for today and forever more.”

Vraska turned to Tomik and asked him to repeat the same thing. For all the eloquence of his vows, Tomik was now struggling to hold himself together.

“I-I give you this ring as a reminder of my love for…for today and forever more.”

He put Ral’s ring on, smiling as they both welled up with tears.

“By the power of your love and commitment, and the power you have vested in me,” Vraska concluded, “I now pronounce you husbands. You may kiss each other.”

Ral could not hesitate a moment longer. He wrapped his arms around Tomik and kissed him as if he’d never get another chance. Tomik returned the embrace with equal passion, surrounding Ral in white silks as the cold metal of his wedding band pressed against Ral’s cheek. Ral lifted his husband off his feet, marvelling at the thought of having a husband, but not willing to let him go for a second. Tomik let out a small yelp as Ral carried him, appropriately bridal style, down the aisle to applause from all their ‘guests’. He took Tomik right over to their seats of honour (tall leather office chairs) by the dining table as everyone else dragged their chairs over, before getting up to fetch their feast.

Ral swiftly lost himself to good food, great wine and the conversation that was surrounded him from all sides. Every now and again he’d find Tomik’s hand under the table and give it a squeeze, sometimes drawing it up for kiss his ring finger and make him blush and fuss. Tomik’s flower crown had fallen slightly lopsided as he started on his second glass of wine, marvelling at how such a feast had been prepared from a few days' scavenging. It turned out Lavinia had found a store of dry goods she couldn’t use, but brought some with her as a bargaining tool. Due to the wedding, everyone’s first thought had been cake, and it had turned out rather well. The cake had been simply coated in fruit and honey, but it was the best tasting thing Ral had eaten in a very long time. Not that having beef wasn’t amazing. As they often did in the evening, they all shared stories about trials and triumphs past. However, these grew progressively more animated as more and more bottles of wine ended up empty on the floor. The cask Jace had found turned out to be whisky, much to the disappointment of some, but to the delight of others. Ral and Lavinia took the whisky to one side whilst Eliza and Mia played a game of catch with two silk scarves and a napkin ring.

They stayed up long into the night. At one point, Jace remembered all the things he was meant to be showing Tomik and brought him the Vrona family jewellery he’d found. Tomik, who was verging on too much wine, hugged him, burst out crying, apologised for punching him in the face, and promptly got Ral to help him put the pendant on. The bangles stayed in their boxes for now as Tomik forgot what he was doing as Emile offered him more cake. It was when the faint line of dawn peeped in through the shutters, that everyone decided it was time to go to bed. Lavinia took herself off first, beaker of whiskey in hand claiming it was a nightcap. Darja, who proclaimed to superior devkarin alcohol tolerance, carried Mia and Eliza into their tent, one over each shoulder, before coming back for Emile, who’d fallen asleep under the table. Jace and Vraska said their goodnights and were the last to go, finally leaving Tomik and Ral to stumble into their tank and immediately pass out.

Ral woke up with a banging headache that had nothing to do with any noise. He groaned, checked that Tomik was lying on his side, before considering the walls of the tank with bleary eyes. There was absolutely no noise in the workshop around them. Probably because everyone was still sleeping. Ral snuggled up to his peacefully snoozing husband, revelling in how good that thought felt. _Husband_. He, Ral Zarek, had a husband. Who would have ever thought he’d get this far? The man who claimed that relationships were nothing but tools had tied the knot. Miracles did happen, and his miracle was currently snoring in his arms. He settled in to sleep a little longer, hoping that would clear some of the hangover he knew was going to get him as soon as he tried to be up and active. He plucked a few flower petals out of Tomik’s hair as he snoozed, before drifting back off into a doze.

A few hours later, Ral woke again. His movement roused Tomik, who let out a long groan of his own. His throat sounded painful and it occurred to Ral that Emile hadn’t come by with painkillers yet today, when usually he was so punctual. Ral promised Tomik he wouldn’t be long and left the tank, intending to go see if Emile was awake and aware enough to dispense mushroom for the day. Crossing to the other workshop, he opened the door to see that, not only was Emile awake, but he was standing right outside the door, inspecting something on the ground. He jumped as Ral entered.

“Morning, Mr Zarek,” he said, “I…err, can I just give you Mr Vro- I mean Mr Zarek’s medication. Something-something happened this morning.”

On closer inspection, Emile looked incredibly pale. Not hangover ill, but incredibly scared and shaken. Ral nodded and followed him over to his tent where he passed him two slices of mushroom atop a piece of canvas. Ral couldn’t help but notice the shadows moving around inside Jace and Vraska’s tent next door. One was definitely Jace, and the other was a small gorgon.

“What happened?” he asked. Emile pushed the mushroom into his hands.

“I’ll-I’ll tell you when we’re sure,” he said, “Please, give this to Mr Zarek.”

Ral did as he was told, the sleepy happiness he’d felt swiftly dwindled as Emile grabbed what looked like some kind of mushroom and went into Jace and Vraska’s tent. As Ral returned to the main workshop, he noticed the blood splatters on the floor, dotted here and there, some smeared as if they had been hastily wiped up. The largest stains were by the door, the ones Emile had been trying to clear up when he came in. Nevertheless, he did as the doctor ordered and returned, giving Tomik his mushroom and a glass of water, before cuddling up to him in the safety and comfort of their bed.

“I’m Tomik Zarek now,” Tomik murmured into his cheek as he kissed him good morning.

“Yes you are,” Ral said proudly, “And I’m your husband.”

“I know.” Tomik kissed him again, taking deep breaths as he rolled over and back into Ral’s arms.

“And I love it.”

His voice was still a bit achy but the water seemed to be helping.

“I’ve realised something though,” Tomik continued, “We didn’t celebrate our wedding night.”

Ral chuckled, though he wasn’t sure his head could cope with anything remotely strenuous right now. He opened his mouth to make some sort of witty comment about his hangover, when suddenly there was a loud banging knock on the side of the tank. Tomik jumped and immediately started coughing up blood onto the sheets, narrowly avoiding the sleeves of his wedding robe. Ral was momentarily torn whether to help or answer the door. He kicked the hatch open with his foot, and hurried over to Tomik, calling:

“One second!”

He held Tomik throughout his coughing fit, rubbing his back, setting him a gentle pace to breath to. He drew back his sleeves and skirts, knowing Tomik would hate to ruin this robe, and held him until the fit had passed. Tomik thanked him through shaky breaths before motioning at the door.

“Come in,” Ral called.

It was Emile.

He was crying.

“Mr-Mr Zarek!” he exclaimed, looking at Tomik, “Mr Zarek! Please don’t die! I-I can’t have anyone else die today!”

Tomik and Ral shared a startled look before fixing their gaze back on the gorgon.

“Emile, what happened?” asked Ral.

“Sister-Sister Vraska,” Emile wept, “She got so ill this morning after eating and-and drinking so much. Jace was too drunk so she-she made her way to the bathroom on her own and…and… she tripped in the corridor, hit her head on the metal railings and…and…I couldn't do anything. By-by the time I was up...”

“Oh Emile,” Tomik glanced at Ral, who nodded, before drawing the little gorgon into a hug.

“I’m so sorry,” Tomik continued as Ral put his arms round the both of them.

“You did the best you could,” Tomik continued, “You did everything right. It-it’s… just a terrible accident.”

“I-I don’t know what got her first,” Emile sobbed, “The head-injury, the vomiting… there’s so much blood and-and… it’s everywhere. I knew she didn’t have long but-but… I could have at least made it painless!”

“You really did do all you could,” Ral confirmed, “No one is going to blame you for this. It just happened. There’s no one to blame. Nothing could have been done. We’re sorry.”

Emile buried his face in Tomik’s robes and cried, leaving Tomik sitting there a little awkwardly, trying to assure him that things would befine. That this wasn’t his fault. Ral didn’t expect their wedding to be proceeded so quickly by a funeral. However here they were, the gods were cruel bastards and it seemed they didn’t want them to be happy for too long. All the Golgari were insisting that their Queen be returned to the Undercity, to return her to the earth so life could begin anew. However, there was no way of getting down there without attracting the attention of the Erstwhile. So Jace came up with another solution. There was a fast-flowing stream nearby that fed an underground river that passed through the Undercity capital. If they buried her in the banks of the stream, then eventually, through time and erosion, the part of her that became the soil would be taken down into the Undercity back home. The Golgari still weren’t the most accepting of Jace, but the fact that the man was clearly overwhelmed by grief, was enough for them to reach an agreement.

Ral couldn’t help but wonder how Jace kept it together. He had been crying for hours now, tears streaming down his face as he tried to carry out normal conversations and discuss how they were going to move his lover’s dead body. He wasn’t even bothering to hide it behind his illusions. His voice shook with repressed sobs, he dropped whatever he was holding with alarming regularity. Yet still he tried to help. He tried to carry out their daily routine as usual. The funeral party formed out of anyone strong enough to carry Vraska or a shovel. Ral considered going, but he couldn’t leave Tomik alone. His husband was clearly feeling the effects of last night, on top of all the usual pain, and he was so weak that he hadn’t been able to get out of bed all day. He asked Emile to say a few words for him as the group headed out. Lavinia and Darja carried a bier made of metal piping and canvas. The gorgons surrounded the pair, armed and ready, whilst Jace took the lead, covering their tracks and directing them to this stream. Ral watched them go from the roof, wondering if there was anything more he should have done. There was nothing about Vraska’s condition that seemed preventable. Maybe she shouldn’t have drunk or eaten so much, but he couldn’t blame her for wanting to join in the revelry and be happy about something. And he couldn’t blame Jace for taking part in it too. Yesterday had been the happiest day he’d had in so long, perhaps the happiest since Tomik agreed to move in with him so many years ago. Maybe even happier than that. No, they had needed to celebrate something. This wasn’t his fault for suggesting they celebrate. It was just as they’d said. An accident, just a terrible accident. For now however, it was his duty to look after Tomik. As Emile said, no one else needed to die today. Not now, not ever.

Not three days later, when Tomik suddenly gasped,

“_Ral, I can’t breathe_.”

They had been sitting on the roof. Emile had helped get Tomik up there and some point Jace had joined them, skulking silently amongst the vegetable pots. At Tomik’s confession, all three men leapt up, Ral holding onto Tomik as he began to splutter blood all over his papers. Tomik’s chest heaved as he gasped for breath, Emile doing everything he could to check his breathing, pressing an ear to his chest as Ral tried to help Tomik even out his breathe, trying to bring rhythm to his exhalation. But it wasn’t working, Tomik was already incredibly pale from all the blood loss, but now he was white as a sheet. He gave a horrible rasping gurgle as yet more blood spilled from his lips. His eyes rolled back in their sockets as he passed out cold. Emile let out a small scream of

“Roll him onto his back, he’s drowning!”

Ral did as he was told, Emile kicked the book aside.

“Gently move his head to the side, drain any blood that’s in there,” he knelt down, moving Ral’s hands off to follow his own instructions. A frightening amount of blood poured out of Tomik’s mouth and onto the concrete below.

“Then back up. Make-make sure that his head and chin are leant back, we need to keep his airways open,” Emile seemed to be talking his way through his own panic. He checked Tomik’s pulse and swallowed heavily.

“I-I’ll try to revive him. Guildpact…go and get the bright cloud cap from my shelf, furthest on the left. Now!”

Jace went, no questions asked. Emile let out a shaky breath, checked for a pulse again, before leaning over, pinching Tomik’s nose with one hand whilst opening his mouth with the other. Ral knew instantly what this was. As soon as he heard the word ‘revive’, he felt like the entire rooftop had collapsed under him. He stood there, limply holding onto his husband as Emile tried to breathe oxygen back into his lungs. When that did nothing, Emile looked like he was about to cry, but instead carried on murmuring to himself.

“Chest compressions! I’ll…I’ll…”

Ral felt like he was watching life go by through fogged glass. Everything seemed dim, pale, and somehow not real anymore. Because Tomik wasn’t moving. Because Tomik wasn’t breathing. Tomik didn’t have a pulse. Even as Emile frantically tried to get Tomik breathing, to return the oxygen flow to his brain, even as Jace came back with a weird puffy mushroom which Emile pierced with a knife and puffed the contents into Tomik’s mouth. None of this seemed real. None of this could be happening. It had been four days. He’d been married to the most wonderful man in the multiverse for only four days and now… now…

“Emile,” Jace said softly. Emile was trying the joint breathing again, switching between that and the chest compression. Emile merely glared at him, eyes full of tears.

“No one else dies!” he cried, “No one. No more death, please, no more death!”

Tomik’s face was covered in blood and mushroom powder. Ral couldn’t help but lean forwards to wipe him clean. His limp form was shaking as Emile desperately tried to restore some life into his chest. However, too long had passed. Too long with no sign of a pulse. Emile started openly weeping into Tomik’s robes.

“I’m-I’m so sorry,” he sobbed, “I…I’ve failed everybody.”

“No you haven’t,” said Jace, gently picking the gorgon up off of Tomik, “You haven’t failed anyone. It’s like her, he…he was reaching his time.”

Ral gently closed Tomik’s eyes, before wiping the last of the blood and gore off Tomik’s face. Cleaned up, it looked like Tomik had fallen asleep like this, lying on the roof, looking for non-existent stars. Ral felt a sharp sensation piercing through his throat, his eyes burnt as he realised he’d never got to show Tomik the stars. Not even fireworks or illusions. He pulled the limp form of his husband into his arms, cradling his face in one hand, stroking back his hair and praying that he would open his eyes at any moment, that this was all some horrible trick by uncaring gods. He straightened Tomik’s glasses, pressed a kiss to his forehead. He was still warm. He still smelled like Tomik - ink, soap and perhaps a little blood. He clutched him tight as one of Tomik’s arms escaped his grip and lung limply at his side. Ral checked for a pulse everywhere he knew how. Nothing. Just soft skin and a residual warmth.

“Please,” Ral choked. Somewhere nearby, a bird sang unaware of the tragedy unfolding below it.

“Please,” Ral tried again, “Please please please.”

He let out a scream that had the bird twittering away in alarm. The skies overhead grew darker, as for one wild moment, Ral wondered if his love could return to him as a ghost. His parents had? Why couldn’t Tomik? But there were no ghosts to be seen. Just dark clouds, black soil and derelict rooftops for miles around. He rocked with Tomik in his arms as he heard footsteps behind him. He had no idea when Emile and Jace had left, but only Jace had returned. He had blankets in his arms, but Ral wasn’t ready for that yet. He wasn’t going to put Tomik in a makeshift body bag, He hadn’t said goodbye. He’d never got to say goodbye…

An emptiness settled over Ral, sudden and cold. He’d never said goodbye. He hadn’t even told Tomik he loved him before-before… The last thing Tomik had heard would be some inane chatter about transmission towers he’d been having with Emile. No! No, that couldn’t be it!

“What do you want to do?” Jace asked softly, breaking through his sudden panic. Ral ignored him, still kneeling on the cold concrete with Tomik in his arms. Ral refused to look at him, fixing his gaze on the horizon. How could he ask that so soon? How-how could he even bare to think of what came next?

“I don’t know,” Ral stated, looking out over the wreckage of the streets. There were people right below his feet. Living breathing people with their whole lives ahead of them. But as he knelt here, gold band pressing against his palm, shoulders shaking, Tomik lifeless in his arms, he couldn’t imagine a lonelier sight.

“I don’t know,” he said again. His voice cracked. His lips trembled. Jace visibly hesitated by his side, raising one hand as if he wanted to put it on Ral’s arm, his shoulder, offer him some sort of comfort. But the former Guildpact didn’t look like he was in any better of a state himself. The shadows of his eyes, how drawn his cheeks had become, made him look almost skeletal. He fiddled with a strap on his armour as they both looked out over the ruins of civilisation. Dust and debris now scattered where people had once stood. Store fronts smashed open. Corpse carts long rotten. Indistinguishable piles of bricks where people once lived, worked, loved…

Jace looked up as he felt the first few drops of rain patter against his head and shoulders. Ral’s eyes stayed fixed on the wreckage, knowing full well why the weather had turned. Rain pattered across the vegetable boxes, the water butt and the now-lightless bird traps. Not even the golden glow of the cages had remained. Ral shuffled a little towards the edge. For a moment, he considered what would happen if he carried on further. Would Jace try to stop him? Would his spark, for all the good it had done, try to carry him away at the last moment? He wrenched his gaze to the darkening clouds above. He let the rain strike him. No charm. No protection. He would soon be soaked through, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Once upon a time, he’d got used to being alone. Declared relationship to be nothing but tools, used people’s hearts like forge irons, to craft himself into something better. Yet now, now he felt empty. Like some part of him had been removed and now lay lifeless in his arms There would be no getting used to this loneliness. No life to live, no future to craft, but nothing wreckage and ruin.

He could see the rain spreading off into the horizon, hammering off rooftops for miles around. Jace was staring at him now.

“Ral?” his voice was almost lost to the beat of rain upon the concrete.

Ral opened his mouth but all that came out was a strangled sob.

“Ral,” Jace tried again, “What do…What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know… just_, go_. Go away.”

Jace left him, clattering noisily back down the hatch. Ral simply knelt. He watched. He felt the emptiness swallow him whole. 

Ral Zarek cried and Ravnica cried with him. 


End file.
